


The Thing with Feathers

by Midgetdragon7x, Scilera



Series: Dragon Age: Apocalypse [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age: Apocalypse, Eventual Smut, F/M, Follows Origins Main Points, M/M, Multi, Romance, mostly canon-compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4272693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midgetdragon7x/pseuds/Midgetdragon7x, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scilera/pseuds/Scilera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merida Cousland had been raised a devout Andrastian; she had never had cause to doubt the existence of the Maker or the wisdom of that belief.  The core rules were simple and sensible - kindness, compassion, justice, charity, honor, loyalty… these were all virtues she could understand and strive toward.  That being said, however, Merida had always existed firmly inside this realm.  The mysticism surrounding the faith she had belonged to all her life had flown almost entirely over her head.  Such things made for good stories around a roaring winter’s fire, but that was all.  She was no Fade-wandering mage and preferred it that way.  This world she knew; this world she understood, even if she didn’t always like it.</p>
<p>Little did she know just exactly how deeply entangled in magic and mysticism her life already was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Trouble Brewing (Beware of Potions and Elixers)

Normally, the Ferelden Circle was a peaceful place – if a bit dreary.

_Normally_ , there wasn’t a great hulking black Mabari bounding around the largest of the libraries in hopeless pursuit of a white cat perched atop a corner of the highest bookshelf.  Most of the regular students and scholars had gone off grumbling in search of quieter – _saner_ – pastures.  Only the tall ginger warrior and her tiny elven mage friend seemed entirely unbothered.  For sure, the Templar standing guard at the door looked like he couldn’t wait for his shift to be over.  Donald, his name was.  Or something.  He was one of the guards who wasn’t very kind to Tae and so Merida had no time for him.

“You realize if your idiot dog ever actually caught that cat she’d kick his ass, right?”

“Do _you_ realize if he ever actually caught her he wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with himself?”  There was good-natured laughter in Merida’s voice.  “Father gives me a hulking black puppy named _Fury_ and he’s the biggest baby you’ll ever meet in your life.  ‘A wardog’, he says.  ‘A fine companion’, he says.  ‘Family tradition’, he says.  He jinxed it when he named it Fury.  I’m certain of it.  Should’ve named it Taevan.”

“Only if you wanted to scare all the wrong people and make the people it’s supposed to scare laugh themselves silly.”

A small cushion sailed through the air, aimed at the back of the young mage’s small blonde head.  He ducked it easily, because after fifteen years of knowing Merida Cousland, some things were just painfully predictable.  Unfortunately, that meant it sailed right on over to land at the Templar’s – Dougal’s?  David’s?  Dexter’s? – feet.  Now, that wouldn’t have been such a terrible fate for a trained warrior, except… well…  Things thrown in Fury’s vicinity meant fetch and fetch was always about him, even when it wasn’t.  Which left a great mass of several hundred pounds worth of wardog galumphing in the Templar’s direction. 

Said Templar decided that discretion was the better part of valor and ducked out the door to ah, go out and actively find his replacement.  Cullen owed him anyway and the combination of this particular mage and his particular guest never sat well with anyone else.

He didn't have to go very far to find his fellow. Cullen had been striding down the hallway anyway, on his way to relieve him of his post. This wasn't strictly his area – Cullen usually occupied his time in the lower halls with the youngest of the tower's residents – but the Fereldan native had struck up a quiet sort of friendship with the mage and his strange feline companion. The warrior who visited him often (the woman who was rumored the favorite bet on the inheritance of Highever) didn't seem to get as defensive when he was around either. And while Greagoir wasn't ever inclined to show mages special treatment, he knew it was best to keep nobility quiet and happy.

Noting the pillow in the mouth of the excitable Mabari, Cullen could only laugh as he slipped through the door of the library – as quiet as the metal plate of his armor would let him be. "Are you two causing trouble again?"  While this was never out of the realm of possibility, these words were a gentle jest instead of a reprimand.  This time. One large, warm hand settled on the top of Fury's head, petting the giant beast behind the ears. "You aren't doing a very good job keeping them in line, Furry."

The dog only woofed happily, flopping on Cullen's feet with a huff of contentment.

"Not a chance.  It isn't nearly so much fun without you here to try and stop us."  Merida's grin was crooked - and upside down as she regarded him from where her head rested up and over the arm of the sofa on which she lounged. 

"Or to clean up the mess."  Tae's addition was dry, but he didn't tense up or close off the way he did when most people interrupted the few visits he was allowed. 

"It's good to see you Lady Cousland." The greeting was as polite as it was sincere. Cullen had never really believed in keeping mages that were not a threat completely isolated from the friends and family they may have had before coming to the Circle. Not that any of them would have been able to stop Merida if they'd had a mind to, but still. It was good to see someone, especially someone as often lonely as Tae seemed, have a visitor.

Taevan’s cat - white as the driven snow - seemed to realize the cavalry had arrived and leapt down from her perch to land softly on one of Cullen’s large pauldrons, butting her head into his jaw to demand attention in the way of all spoilt house cats.  It made Tae's mouth go sort of funny down on one side, but he didn't say anything.  It was useless to give a cat commands anyway.

The more formal greeting seemed to snap Merida out of herself and her easy - almost childish - silliness.  She sat up properly on the furniture and her face was strangely serious when she offered her best imitation of her mother's stately nod in return.  "And you, ser Templar."  There was some new weight around her shoulders that hadn't been there on her last visit; frequent though they were in comparison to most (she'd have been here once a fortnight if they'd let her) there was still spans of time enough between each one that seemed to leave gaps in any friendship.  "I hope all is well with your family."

That weight made worry crease the skin between Tae's eyes when he thought she wasn't looking, but he didn't know how to ask or even bring it up.  So instead he changed the subject.

"Now that it's you and not Donal, Cullen, can we go out?  I need some more blood lotus and that fool dog of hers can sniff out the right ones without tainting them with outside magic."

“Donal, that’s it.  I keep forgetting.”

“Only because you don’t care.”

“That too.”

"They are quite well last I heard. My sister is running things with her usual drama and flair if the last letter from my brother is any indication." There was genuine affection in Cullen's tone, fingers coming up to rub the insistent feline on the cheeks and behind the ears as he pressed on to answer the polite inquiry before dealing with the more casual one.  Stepping over the hound that had tried in earnest to make a pillow of his feet, the Templar nodded at Tae.

"Of course, though we do not have permission to leave the island just yet. Something going on near the dock that we would all do well to keep clear of.”  He didn’t elaborate further, which only served to make Taevan look pricklier.  “The clusters of blood lotus we gathered last time should have grown back by now. There might even be spindleweed, and there is always need for elfroot, if we can find any." Cullen added as an afterthought. It was one reason that he tried to keep an eye on the two himself when they were together. If they made themselves useful to the Tower as a whole, neither Irving nor Greagoir could complain too much.

It was enough to make Tae's face pinch inward in earnest, but he sighed and shrugged.  "Fine.  Anywhere with fresh air would be better than in here."  It was the one part about his lot that Taevan never had really resigned himself to; he'd never been kept indoors for long as a child unless he was sick.  Being cooped up inside a stone prison - no matter how large or grand - was worse than anything else.

"I'd suggest cloaks however, it’s a bit chilly out today."

"Chilly?  Really?  Bah, you wouldn't last very long living in the mountains, Cullen - or on the sea cliffs for that matter."  Merida was already standing, reaching for the massive greatsword leaning against the sofa and settling it along her back.  The quip made Tae snicker into his wrist, but that stopped short with her addition.  "Not so fast, Taevie.  You need your cloak.  Remember what happened last year."

Annoyed as he was at being bossed around by the rough equivalent of his big sister, Tae had no wish to repeat last winter's clinging pneumonia.  Being under supervision for that long had nearly driven him 'round the bend.

So by the time he'd grabbed his cloak and their little party had made it out past the Templars at the main doors, the sun was already past its zenith and arcing slowly down toward the horizon.  It would be the warmest part of the day - not that that said much, for it _was_ chilled - but while Tae and the furball ranged ahead into the eastern thickets (because Merida and her big hands would just make a mess of things, apparently) she and the cat hung back with Cullen, perhaps for once more watchful than even he was.  The white feline was quite content to use the Templar's shoulder as her perch, cleaning one paw with the rough edge of her tongue before tucking her body into a little white loaf shape against the heat of his neck.

Merida was quiet for a while, staring out into the middle distance while Tae shoved at an over-eager Fury to keep him from crushing whatever it was he was trying to cut free.  Not normally one to question the way things were done (unless something struck her as particularly unfair) she struggled with herself over whether to say anything at all, but this was too important... especially if this turned out to be her last visit.

"There's a Blight coming from the South.  Have they told you, yet?"  Her voice was low and quiet, but steady.  "A force from Highever and Amaranthine are gathering to march under my father's banner in less than a fortnight - down to meet King Cailan and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar."

"Neither the First Enchanter nor the Commander have said anything, but it's impossible for us not to know. Many of the mages don't, except for those with the most seniority." His expression went from serene to grim, dark eyes hard as he looked toward the horizon to the south. "Be _careful,_ Merida."

He knew that she'd much rather be fighting in Ostagar than ruling the Teyrnir and there was a flash of worry and something else in his eyes when he turned to look at her. "You have more friends than just Taevan, whom I'm sure would go absolutely mad with grief if something were to happen to you."

It was almost like he was pleading with her not to do anything foolish, but he knew better. He had no place to make such demands of her; he was a Templar, and a native of Ferelden. He knew what this land meant to its people, knew how stubborn and willful they were.

Some more than others.

There was an impact - so sudden it felt almost physical - from the unexpected intensity in the way he looks at her then.  It was hard to breathe and - for just a moment - hard even to think.  It was exhilarating in a way she'd only ever used to describe the feeling of flying over obstacles on horseback or standing at the bow of her mother's ship before, but it also frightened her.  And Merida's response to that fear was the same as her response to anything that scared her; she flirted with it.

"That your way of saying you'll miss me while I'm gone?  I have to say, the use of guilt is entirely novel - very creative and effectively applied, too.  Though I'd maybe leave out potential harm to little brothers and best friends if you plan on trying to flirt with someone who doesn't know you this well.  Might frighten the poor dears just a bit and then you'd have a fainted wee noble lass on your hands and frankly that's really not how a girl wants to be made to feel boneless."

The Templar stared at her like she'd grown another head, caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to throttle her. Of course she would react this way, he could have expected no different. "You are incorrigible, Merida Cousland."

There was humor in his voice, though a tightness lingered as he sighed.  He looked away again, frown returning to his face and causing him to look so much older than his 25 years. "Of course I would miss you."

It was really as simple as breathing, admitting such a thing now, in the face of an entirely uncertain future. It should have scared him, Templars were not supposed to indulge in these kinds of emotions, giving themselves more weakness, but there were some things this simple farm boy would never outgrow.  He could distract them both from his weakness, though.

"I hardly think you'd faint for anything short of losing a mass amount of blood."

"Oh, I don't know...  I've met a few Antivan courtesans who tell stories of pleasure so intense they black out completely."  Her grin was entirely wicked as she turned just enough to watch him from the corner of her eye.  "I don't think there'd be any shame in fainting because the mouth between your legs happens to know what it’s doing."

It felt good to banter back and forth again, though she couldn’t ever quite escape the looming fear in the back of her mind.  _This might very well be the last time I get to do this_.  It made her bolder than usual.  All in the name of her eternal quest to make him sputter and blush, of course, and not at all because she wanted to chase away the tight sadness from a face she thought should always be smiling.

She was not disappointed.  The blush she so loved to see flame across his cheeks came on with a vengeance, and splutter he did – for several long moments – before a hand covered his eyes and he tipped his head back to the sky. "Andraste, what have I done to deserve this?"

He was smiling under that hand though and he knew it was all in jest. In truth, after so many years it was much harder for Merida to get this kind of reaction from him.  Oh, she still knew well enough just what buttons to push to get what she wanted, there were just fewer of them.

Or so Cullen liked to think anyway.

The color in his face, the splutter, even the hand over his face and the plea to Andraste... they felt like a personal victory to Merida, a triumph made so much better by the smile that went with it.

She savored the win for a moment, luxuriating in the simple happiness that came from getting a rise out of stoic, duty-minded Cullen and ignored the part of it that was pleasure brought on purely by that smile.

It wouldn't do to dwell too long on the fact that it had stopped being a game a long time ago... at least on her part.

She was silent for a few moments more as those thoughts prompted her return to the original topic at hand. 

"It's why I asked about your family," she began quietly, leaning forward against an outcropping of stone.  "I know Honnleath isn’t Ostagar, but if the horde is large enough for a true Blight..."  She trailed off and shook her head, more awkward about this than she'd intended to be - or liked.  "If you want, I can send riders to escort them north.  Your brother, your sisters and their families would be welcome in Highever and we're so far north that..."

That if the darkspawn made it that far there would be no hope for anyone.

"... that we'd have plenty of warning if the danger was going to make it that far and we’d all be across the sea and into the Marches before it ever got bad."

Maker, this shouldn't have been harder to talk about than making filthy jokes to a sworn holy Templar... but it was.

"I would appreciate that." There was sincerity and relief in his words, reaching out for her before he could stop himself.  His hand squeezed hers before he let go and blushed again, glancing away with another embarrassed grin. "My mother and father will not like being taken away, but Honnleath is not a safe place for them to be right now..."

The touch of his hand on hers was startling - frightening - and so unexpectedly warm.  Merida froze in place at the sensation and simply stared down at the place where his skin pressed against hers like she wasn't certain it was happening at all.  Only when he made to pull away did she react, hand turning over quickly to squeeze his in return, holding it in place long enough for her to catch and hold his gaze with her own.

There was so much he wanted to say, and knew he shouldn't. The conflict got worse every time she came to visit. There was so much about her that was hard and seemingly uncaring. She intimidated and even _scared_ most of the Templars, except for those dumb enough to think her anything less than dangerous...  But then there were these moments, where she was quiet and almost soft - earnest and her heart… not so much on her sleeve, but easy enough to see if one knew how to look.

"I don't know yet whether it will be Fergus or I that Father chooses to leave behind to hold the teyrnir, but either way your family will be safe, I promise."

She didn't make promises or take oaths easily; that she did so now was testament to- to... to a lot of things, really, not least of which was the sense of danger brought on by the approach of this Blight and her desire to keep those few people dear to her healthy and happy and whole.

It was easy to lose herself in warm brown eyes.  It always had been.  Her own grey gaze flickered and then dropped back out to the horizon as she released his hand like she'd been burned, apologies mumbled under her breath as she turned entirely forward once again.

"I can't stay as long as I normally would do.  I'll have to leave first thing in the morning if I'm to make it back to Highever in time to make sure everything is prepared before Father leaves."

"Promise that no matter what choice is made, you will do your best to stay safe." He was not nearly so worried about his family in that instant as he was knowing that Merida might be sent to Ostagar against the horde that was massing in the south. The feeling of her palm against his was now burned into his skin and memory, a touch that he was unlikely to forget the feel of for the rest of his life.

The plea for her promise surprised Merida; not for any reasons of her own, but simply because Cullen had always been so... mindful of their respective places in society.  It was his choice to observe and keep propriety in order, always so careful to avoid overstepping his bounds in any regard - no matter how plain she tried to make it known that she could give a rat's arse about protocol when her friends were involved.  To have him step outside of that for any reason shocked her.  It meant that this was important in a way that reached above and beyond the call of his duty.  It warmed her deep inside at the same time that it made her sad.  This good man - strong, honorable, brave, unspeakably kind - was everything she'd ever wanted... and everything she knew no woman like her would ever have.

And he wanted her safe.

"For you," she began, the crooked smile not entirely succeeding in hiding the sincerity behind her words.  "For you, I'll try."

He could not have what he wanted; this strong and brilliant woman was beyond him, above him. Templars in the Ferelden Circle did not take brides, did not have families. It was not something that a thirteen year old would consider when he promised himself to the Chantry and it was one of the very few things Cullen regretted in his life. Though, he supposed, even before becoming a Templar, he would have been beneath her station – a simple farmer's son.

"I'll watch over Taevan while you are away. I'll try and get him out as often as allowed, I know being cooped up inside the Tower drives him a bit mad."

That he seemed to anticipate her main concern before she could even ask it of him made that smile grow and warm.  "Thank you," she breathed, the warmth - and, if she was honest with herself, affection - in her smile tinged with the only hints of sadness she would allow herself to show.  "He needs that.  He wouldn't admit it if his life depended on it, but he'll need you while I'm gone.  I know I couldn't leave him in better hands than yours."

And, having said what she needed to say, Merida knew she had to take her leave now before her resolve broke completely and she did something unforgivable.  Pushing off from the outcropping, she rested a hand on his forearm and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.  "Keep yourself safe too, would you please?"  Her gaze flickered once from his mouth up to his eyes, then she drew in a slow breath and stepped back and away. 

"I should deliver Father's missives to the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander before it gets too dark for their old eyes to read any of it.  Tell Tae I'll come find him before supper, yeah?"

There was a different sort of smile that tugged at his lips then and his brown eyes were warm with affection and the setting sun. "Of course. This time of day both men should be in their respective studies."

He didn't want to let her go, but once she was out of sight, he raised his hand to his cheek, fingers brushing against the spot her lips had touched and it was like feeling the press all over again. The Templar didn't move for a little while, then headed after the young mage and the hound.  He intended to help gather the last of the herbs Taevan would need, knowing most of them well enough to recognize them without help, and passing on Merida's message to her friend.

"What do you need more of other than the blood lotus?"

"Need?  Some deep mushrooms and spider blood, but since I'm not exactly going to find either one I'm just getting Elfroot for Wynne and the other healers, now."  There was a tension in the way that Taevan spoke (which was uncommon when addressing this particular Templar) and his posture was tight to mirror the clenched jaw and pinched brows of his expression.  "I figured I could gather that while you two finished talking."

He was quiet for a few moments more, carefully pulling several of the larger specimens with their roots intact to let Petra make Owain his tea.

"She won't tell me what's wrong - refuses to even admit anything's happened, but judging by the way you two were thick as thieves back there and the way she left either she told you she fancies you or she told you what's been eating at her."  He tried to smile, because this was his friend and he didn't have so many of those that he'd be throwing them away any time soon, but he was worried and a worried Taevan was kind of an ass. 

"Either way, I want to know."

Because played off like a joke, he could pretend to be less frightened than he actually was.

"I doubt she fancies me, Taevan." The words were out before he thought too hard about why her best friend would be implying such things. That immediate, knee-jerk answer earned Cullen the look Merida had termed as 'Maker, but you're an idiot' when she and Tae had been no more than five or six.

He'd rather perfected it since then.

"She wants me to watch out for you while she's away. There are things she must attend to at the behest of her father..." The words sounded trite on his tongue and he sighed, standing with more elfroot in his hand. "There is a Blight coming from the south. Not many of your fellows know – we don't want to incite an unnecessary panic – but Merida and her brother... One will stay in Highever to rule the teyrnir while the other will help lead an army from there and Amaranthine to join up with the King's army and the Grey Wardens."

He paused in his explanation and eyed the younger man. "And that is to stay between you and I. There is already enough unrest, neither of us should cause more, at least before it becomes clear whether there is need for it or not."

It was all almost enough to make him progress from his 'You are an idiot' stare to his 'You are a fucking idiot and here are the reasons why' lecture, but the conversation took such a drastic turn that it drove everything else from his mind.

"A - a Blight?  But she's not a Warden!  What do they expect her to do against the Darkspawn?"  The dark hordes were one shadow-monster that never lost their fear factor no matter how old or grizzled one became.  The idea frightened Taevan; not so much for himself, but for his stupid best friend who would no doubt run headlong into the fray at the first opportunity.  Fear - like most other emotions, really - tended to make Taevan into kind of an ass.  "Wait, if the King's assembling an army, he'll be sending for mages, soon.  And anywhere mages go, Templars have to go too.  That's it, then.  We'll just get them to take us along when they go south.  Problem solved."

Because obviously that was the only reasonable solution.

"There are scores and scores of dwarves in the Deep Roads with higher body counts under their belt than any living Warden, Taevan, without a Warden among them." His words were flat, rote. He didn't like Merida going any more than the slight mage did. "Mages and Templars have already joined the King's army, they left a fortnight ago, while the rest of the tower was sleeping, so that it would not cause much of a disturbance among the rest of the scholars. The Wardens also have mages among their numbers. I doubt our presence among the many that have already gathered would make even the slightest difference, and you being there might only serve to distract Merida – if she goes at all. There's just as much likelihood that her father will send Fergus."

He could only hope.

That news sent Tae's expressive face through shock, fear and then anger rather quickly.

"You're lying."  Such a deep growl really should not have been able to come from such a small mage, but Taevan was very good at being angry; it had been a state he'd occupied for much of his life.  "There's no more than a hundred people here, all told.  There’s no way enough mages and Templars for the King's battle could just slip away like that.  Someone would notice!"

Except – oh shit.

Some of the mages here were social, but they were almost exclusively the younger ones - the children and the novices.  Nearly everyone else had become obsessed with their solitude or their work or their study to the point of near hermitic life.  Even mealtimes were only regularly attended by the children and their minders.  Tae had spent so much of his life here just trying to keep out of everyone else's way that he couldn't truly say that he'd have noticed one way or the other.

"Oh gods..."

The realization that Cullen might be telling the truth after all hit the young elf hard.  He went worryingly pale, but it was not from shock or illness...

It was from fury.

"Come now, we'll need to get this dropped off with the Tranquil for the stores, and both get cleaned up before supper is served."

Rarely did he bother taking any sort of authoritative tone with Taevan, but now was no time for the mage to get anymore ahead of himself than he already was. As much as they both hated the idea, they were stuck in Kinloch while Merida walked off into the unknown.

That authoritative tone was exactly the wrong tack to take with Taevan Rogers.

"You only say that because you don't know Fergus.  He's a decent strategist and a competent fighter, but he's not hungry for the challenge like she is.  He's got a wife and a young son and would much rather sit at home around the fire with a good ale and a good song than charge down any field of battle - least of all this one.  You mark my words, Cullen; Merida will be in that battle and you may be content to sit here and twiddle your thumbs while she gets herself killed, but I'm not.  I won't."

_I can't._

And with that, he stepped up on a middling-sized rock, lifted his cat from Cullen's shoulder and stalked off toward the tower with satchel and cat in tow.  He would figure out... something.  He had to.

Cullen let a lot of things go with Taevan, especially where Merida was concerned, but that last comment struck the wrong chord with the Templar.  It sent him stalking after the mage and grabbing him by the shoulder, body stooped just a little since he towered over the young man. "You listen to me, Taevan. You may be under the misguided impression that you are the only person in this Tower that cares so much for Merida's well-being but you are gravely mistaken. If I thought my presence would make one sliver of difference in Ostagar – if I thought _your_ presence would make a difference – we would be leaving just as soon as she. But the plain and painful fact of the matter is that your lack of practical battle experience would make you a liability, and I _will not_ risk Merida's life or anyone else's for some selfish and foolish notion that either of us could keep her safe."

When his shoulder was grabbed and swung around to force him to face the much larger Templar knight, Taevan's instinctive response was not to jerk away or protect himself, but to shift his hold on the cat and curl his upper body like a shield around her.  Only when it became apparent that Cullen wasn't about to rip her from him did Tae unwind - and even then it was just enough to stand his ground with his chin lifted defiantly against the lecture he was being given.

"Why is it that we can only take action if you think it will help?  I'm no child, Cullen.  And you know as much about magic as I do about swords.” 

Honey brown eyes were intense and his jaw clenched as he spoke; the words were as soft as they were furious. Cullen was a gentle man and even when his ire was raised he did not squeeze the shoulder under his palm, did not seek to cause pain to get his point across. It was not in his nature.

"Do not think that if you run, I will not pursue you. I promised Merida I would keep you safe while she is away, wherever that might be. If that means dragging you back to the Tower kicking and screaming for your own good, I will do it. We are friends but I am under no mistaken impression that our friendship supersedes my duty."

“There are things I can do, whether you believe it or not.  Merida is the only family I have left.  Nothing is more important than that; not fear, not danger, not -" 

There was a flash of surprising hurt that interrupted his tirade as Cullen's last words finally properly sunk in.  It drained the energy from him, but his low voice was bitter when he concluded.

"Not even duty."

Finally he did jerk his shoulder out from Cullen's grip, staring up at his jailer with hot accusation in large blue eyes.

"If she dies out there on her own I will _never_ forgive you."

This time when he turned, his progress toward the Tower was much, much slower, but Cullen did not stop Tae and was under no impression that he might have gotten through to the younger man. He followed only when there was a danger of letting the mage out of his sight, walking just as slowly but his longer stride still eating the ground between them.  It meant they reached the tower doors at just about the same time.

He let Tae go off to sulk, moving to the barracks to clean up after helping dig through the marshy ground outside the tower. He did not move quickly – there was no need.  He was not required in the dining hall for supper but usually wandered his way there just to not be alone or stuck writing reports.

The hall was noisy with the youngest of the mages and Cullen smiled and patted a couple on the head as he passed.  He was far friendlier with this group than Greagoir would have liked, but the many ways they reminded him of his own siblings meant the younger Templar refused to stop.  Mages were people too after all. Vulnerable to possession and dangerous when untrained, but that did not stop the children from making up games with each other or crying when they fell down and skinned their knees.

Tae had dropped off the day's spoils with Owain and cleaned himself up without delay, which meant that by the time Cullen made it into the dining hall, he was already in an intensely whispered debate with Merida.  She glanced up long enough to give her less excitable friend the look of the long-suffering, but then dutifully returned her attention to Tae's argument.  She loved her best friend dearly and knew how frustrated he felt when he was cooped up and kept 'safe' - helpless while she went off on her own.  If it would make him feel better to concoct plans and formulate strategy while she was there to listen and take the help and gently steer him away from the more reckless paths, she would gladly sit and do so all night. 

This time, however, it turned out that would be unnecessary.  Tae struck on a grand idea about halfway through the meal - of which he had touched exactly none and Merida only slightly more than none - and took her heavy greatsword from her before rushing out of the room and up the stairs to only Maker knew where.

Cullen stayed away while the two conspired, if only because he knew at least one of them would clam up at his presence. Tae was angry at him and would stay that way as long as he wanted, Cullen would not apologize for hurting his feelings with words he felt were the truth. When the skinny young man disappeared, he headed over to the table at which she sat, taking the spot across.

Merida watched Taevan go and heaved a sigh, then dropped her gaze to the plate where her utensils moved food around for another few minutes of silent thought.

"Does the dinner of the evening not suit you, Lady Cousland?"

The words were gently teasing, testing the waters. Merida upset about anything was never a predictable person.

"No, no, it's fine, thank you.  I only - "  So lost in her own thoughts, she had made it halfway through her usual polite deflection before she even became aware enough to recognize that it had been Cullen who'd asked.  "Just not all that hungry."

He leaned on his arms and tried to catch her gaze. "I'm sorry about Taevan, but you know how he is, and he cornered me about what was bothering you."  There was a split second where his knuckles brushed hers, just the barest touch, but enough for her to feel, to let her know that he was there. The brush of his knuckles was a warm comfort against the cold weight of guilt and fear in her stomach.  Her fingers twitched out and rested atop his in response - light enough that he could pull away if he chose, but not hesitant or wavering. 

"He just wants to know you're going to be safe, Merida... I cannot find fault in that."

She dropped her gaze again, pushing her food around and chewing on her lower lip - a classic 'tell' that she felt guilty about something. 

"You know who enslaves their mages?" she asked him quietly without ever looking up.  "Us, Kirkwall and the Qunari - and _that's_ definitely a list we want to be on.  Even the Orlesian Circles send their trained mages out to work in their courts and castles and cities.  We jail them and let them outside like we're taking the dog for a walk or out on a hunt.  I understand the rationale.  I do - most days I'm glad of the Circle because Ferelden is not kind to her mage children, but sometimes..."

Sometimes it was hard, because Tae had that kind of strong personality that demanded to be allowed to shape its own destiny.  Being imprisoned for the crime of being born was only making him worse as the years went on.  It worried her.

"It's I who should apologize to you, really.  I must leave with the dawn; you have to live with him for the next six months or so."  It wasn't a large smile or a particularly bright one, but it was a real smile - while people milled about.  From the teyrn's daughter, that was a rare gift, indeed.

The Templar thought his heart might beat straight out of his chest; he would give anything he had to see that smile again in six months’ time, returning victorious and with all sorts of gruesome stories. Merida was not the type to spare detail.

"I'm sure I'll manage. You just can't die, or he'll never forgive me and a lifetime of _that_ might be entirely unbearable." It was phrased as a jest, teasing their absent friend, but he could not impress upon her enough how he wished that she did not have to face this beast – at all, preferably, but especially without them.

He would _not_ take an untried mage into battle, even if he could figure a way to get out of the tower lawfully.

Warm, calloused fingers curved, holding hers ever so lightly, enough to acknowledge that he welcomed the small touch. "What mad plan had Taevan dragging your sword after him up to the work rooms?"

The curve of his fingers, that light pressure, it was enough to make Merida's own pulse leap and race beneath her skin.  She would not assign meaning to such a simple gesture - she was no fool - but just the touch alone felt so good she couldn't help reacting.  The tip of her middle finger ran circles ever-so-lightly on the softer skin around his sword callous, tracing the shape of it absently while she talked.

"Oh Maker, I don't know, honestly.  Something about dragon bones and a rune and... maybe lightning was involved?"  She pulled a face and shrugged.  "It was like he was speaking Elvhen or something, honestly.  I was listening, but I have no idea what he said."

"That... sounds dangerous. I didn't think we even had any dragon bones in the tower." Cullen rolled his eyes just a little, knowing well enough that Taevan had a tendency toward making things explode.  It was usually on accident, but all the same he wouldn't be surprised to hear a rumble come from the upper floors sooner rather than later.

"You may not.  The sword itself is Dragonbone.  My mother took it from an Orlesian admiral when her crew boarded his ship.  She said he could barely even lift the thing and such beauties should never be hung up just for show."

"I'm slightly terrified of your mother and that's just from stories like that." The Knight laughed under his breath as he shifted his weight slightly, getting more comfortable leaning against the table.

The contrast between rough and smooth skin was a heady sensation to someone like Merida, who didn't touch anyone she wasn't trying to kill - just as a general rule.  Stormcloud silver eyes darkened as she indulged in that particular train of thought; though she was able to return to the topic at hand, it was not without having to wet her lips and take a deep breath first.

"My mother is the only reason I was allowed to pick up a sword instead of an embroidery needle.  Father's company of soldiers were stationed on her ship during the Orlesian occupation and there wasn't a one of them who could match her with her blades in hand.  I love to watch her fight.  She looks like she's dancing except all of her partners end up dead."  Her grin went a little crooked - a little wicked - then.  "Frankly you _should_ be a little afraid.  We're a scary bunch, us Couslands."  Merida couldn't help but grin.  He wasn't truly frightened of her - and she never wanted him to be - but the pretending of it was great fun. 

"I've noticed." He respected her skill as a warrior and knew well enough that it wasn't likely a fight he would win if they were put head to head, but that inspired admiration – not fear.  The trail of her finger around the callous in his palm as she spoke made his heart thud heavily behind his ribs. He let out a little sigh that had more to do with the feeling of her warm hand against his than whatever it was that Tae might be getting up to. "Taevan's just lucky that most of his experiments work out in the end, or I'm sure the First Enchanter would have put his foot down by now..." 

This was a dangerous game she played with herself, letting her mind trail those light, whispering touches higher than her hands would ever dare.  There was something about the knowledge that she would be gone before he even woke tomorrow that made her reckless.

To a point.

Well, more reckless than usual, anyway.

"Someone needs to keep Irving on his toes.  Honestly, if it makes Tae feel better he could blow up half the library and magic the damn sword pink for all I care."

"I thought it was Wynne's job to keep Irving on his toes."  Though he had to agree, if it kept Taevan out of other sorts of trouble, Cullen would happily help rebuild the library any time the mage saw fit to blow it all to hell. It really wasn't Irving his was worried about. He knew the First Enchanter found Tae's antics more amusing than dangerous, but Greagoir wouldn't ever see it the same way. 

"Oh it is, but she _does_ keep telling us she won't be around forever.  Tae could be her apprentice and just no one bothered to tell anyone."  And if that wasn't a scary thought, she didn't know what was. 

"I was concerned when she was sent to Ostagar, she's not getting any younger, even if she is the Circle's most skilled healer."

"She's not so frail as she'd like us to think she is."  But Merida would keep an eye out for her, just in case.  _If_ she was sent to the front with her father, that is.  The more pressing concern just now was the Templar on whose palm she still traced absent-minded designs.

His shoulders rolled under his armor – the shift enough for her to notice – huffing a sigh as he sat back, but left his hands where they were on the table.  "Pink is hardly your color. Though you'd be quite easy to spot on a battlefield if that is what he ends up doing..."

"What?  Oh – hah!  No, not hardly.  Couldn't very well have my sword clash with my hair, now could we?"

That only made him smile a little wider and shake his head. Frankly, it wouldn't matter to him what color her sword was, she would be one of the brightest on the battlefield, if only for her skill.

The easy banter was soothing, familiar, but Merida was distracted from it by the roll of his shoulders and shift of his weight, grey eyes narrowing in focus.

"Are you alright?"

Cullen let out a slow breath and hesitated before nodding. "Overall, yes. I'm going to be worried about you, and you cannot say anything that will make it better unless I get a letter from you stating that you are _not_ the one going to the front." He would not burden her with the troubles of the tower, not when she should be focusing on whatever situation she would be asked to take on.

"If I'm to be governing the teyrnir, I doubt any letter would reach you before Mia had twisted my arm to bring her down here to see you."  Merida tried to help the best she knew how, meaning to lift some of that heavy weight that had settled around his shoulders and the corners of his eyes.  She was quiet for a moment or two more, watching him with the sharp focus of someone who'd made a study of his face and the various expressions that gave away the things his pride and duty demanded he keep to himself.

And those things were heavy this time.  There were whispers and rumors of blood magic. The occupants of the tower were growing restless despite Irving's claims otherwise. Knight Commander and First Enchanter – who had always been on very good terms – were now arguing constantly about how to deal with every possible threat. It was all very ‘behind closed doors’ still, though.  The only reason Cullen was privy to this information was because he'd walked in on them having one such heated discussion and there were some things even good Knights couldn't be ordered to un-hear.

"I understand," she said finally, sliding her hand over his to hold it properly long enough to squeeze in reassurance.  He couldn't say - or he wouldn't say - and in either case she wasn't going to press the issue; she had too much respect for him to do that.

The idea of his older but much smaller sister twisting Merida's arm to do anything was amusing enough to curl Cullen’s lips in a sort of smile, the darkness in his eyes lightening somewhat. That she knew his family that well was a testament to how much he trusted her. Family was precious to the Templar and he did not risk them by speaking of them often or to very many people at all.

The two words that followed made him jerk his gaze upward, relaxing only when she squeezed his hand and continued to talk.  It made Merida's heart hurt within her chest.  This man made of subtle sunshine should never look so afraid, not even for a moment.  She would slay dragons to chase that fear and pain from his face, but...

But it also made her hope - just a little.

"But if something does go wrong - with Tae or with you or here at the Tower or in all of Kinloch, I don't care - you can always send for me, you know."  The earnestness of the sentiment was interrupted by a sheepish, embarrassed little smile, but not disrupted by it.  "Not that, you know, you need anyone to come riding in and save the day.  I know you can take care of yourself and Tae and then some.  I'm only saying I want to help.  I will help, if you nee- want it.  No matter what happens I shouldn't be anywhere that I couldn't get back here in less than a week.  Just... so you know."

For the barest of seconds he was terrified he had given something away somehow. But no. Of course she of all people would understand that there are things that are just not spoken of. Her earnestness, and the sheepish smile brought him forward again, his hand squeezing hers in return. "There is no one I would rather have come to my rescue, should I be in need of it."

It was his turn to be embarrassed, but he didn't bother to correct himself. The words were honest, and he saw no reason to change them at all.

"So it is settled, then.  If you ever need rescued or just another sword at your side, you'll send for me."  Her sheepish smile smoothed and warmed - she kept her words light but there was no doubt that she would keep them, for in that one moment she was too unguarded; what she felt was too strong just then to hide entirely - or even just sufficiently. 

Even if he missed it, there were enough sharp eyes in the room that her misstep could not have come at a worse time.  Little did she know just how much that one slip of her feelings would come back to haunt them all.

"And if I ever get in over my head - either with the Darkspawn horde or the political minefield in the teyrnir - I promise to do the same."  She knew that he was not so free as she was to answer a call for aid; he had his duty here and people he had to answer to directly.  But she also knew him well enough to recognize that not making the arrangement reciprocal would only make him more uncomfortable in the end.  Her Cullen was - above perhaps all other things - an honorable man.

So much so, in fact, that he did not allow himself to believe what he thought he'd seen in her face. There was no way it had been anything but his imagination, over active and over hopeful. The way she made the offer reciprocal, even without him having to say anything, drew an amused and thoughtful smile to his lips. Merida knew him far too well, far better than any of his fellows that he spent day in and day out with.

"Come, help me pry Taevan away from his workbench long enough to say goodnight."

Not that she had any real intention of interrupting Tae while he had lightning runes and Maker only knew what else lying about, but the staring was becoming more overt and while she did need to find her bed soon (because the pre-dawn hour came sooner than anyone ever liked) she wanted a moment more without bringing trouble down upon his head.

The Knight Captain nodded at her suggestion. "Perhaps we should find you an amulet that might offer some protection before we go bother him." The words were cheeky, he knew there was very little danger, but he would not have been himself if he'd let the opportunity slip by.

The critical gazes of those of higher rank than he did not escape the young man's notice. It was in the subtle way he squared his shoulders, lifted his head and escorted her out of the dining hall properly that would do more to bring trouble down on him than anything between them. He knew this, and still, he would not cower or fold himself small.

"He'll be the one that needs an amulet if he blows up my mother's sword."

Make a cheeky suggestion, get a cheeky reply.

Seeing the way Cullen faced the stares and glares and disapproving looks made Merida's chest grow warm and expand with pride and affection.  The fact that he held his head high and offered her his arm like any noble lord thrilled the part of her that loved letting people see how truly little their good opinion meant to her.  So she played along splendidly, rising with a highborn lady's cold, smooth arrogance - if not really the grace - and tucking her arm into his to leave the room like a queen.

"Look at you," she crowed delightedly in his ear, laughing softly as they walked toward the door.  "A lion among jackals."

"Really now, that's not very nice." The smirk on his lips lifted just the corners of his mouth, but it was enough. The reprimand was anything but, his voice full of some unnamable emotion – that she would notice and after noticing still see him in such a way. Cullen was properly humble most of the time, but once in a great while he allowed himself to feel the pride that could be counted as most man's downfall.

Cullen's playful reprimand brought a smile to Merida's lips as well, though hers was not quite so subtle and several degrees more wicked.  "I don't know if anyone's told you, but," she whispered, leaning into him until her mouth almost brushed his ear like she was bestowing upon him Thedas' dearest secret.

"I am not a nice girl."

It was a low, sibilant purr; meant to emphasize the truth of the statement and thereby prove her point; she couldn't resist the chance to flirt when he handed her such perfect openings like that.

Notably, she did not even pretend to rescind the statement.  She saw something rare and wonderful and glorious in Cullen - she wouldn't like him so much as she did otherwise - and would never back down when reminding him (or anyone) of it.

He turned a very fetching shade of pink, but his voice on the rejoinder remained steady.  "I could say the same about you, my lady. A queen among the rabble."

"If Queens got claymores instead of diadems, I would take the job straightaway."  This tease was a bit more innocent - but only just.  Outside the dining hall, however - when she could have concluded the charade and dropped his arm - Merida chose merely to slow her steps rather than pull away.

His pace slowed to match hers and there was a split second where his stance loosened, as though he might pull away. When she did not, however, he was content to continue as they were, glowing just a little under her attention. "As for Tae, he hasn't blown anything up when working with runes in a very long time. You just have to watch his potion and elixir mixing."

She noticed the glow - of course she noticed the glow - but without understanding its source, she chose to do nothing save enjoy it.

"Beware elixirs and potions, got it."

The room that Taevan would have shut himself into was on the third floor of the tower, and they passed only a few other Templars on the way, those that would take their meal at a different time, so they might keep an eye on the mages that chose to eat in their dormitories and work rooms instead of down in the dining hall with the others. Cullen nodded to each man, generally popular among the others if only known as a pillar of strength among the lesser Knights.

Merida saw the respect in how the other Templars greeted Cullen; it made her happy even as it made her sad.  It also spurred her to steer them into a quiet study room a few doors before they'd make it to Taevan. 

"He'll be in there for hours," she explained apologetically.  "Half the night, more like.  I just wanted a chance to say goodbye without an audience."

"I'm sure one of the older mages will drag him off to bed kicking and screaming before the night gets to deep. Taevan's health is something we all keep tabs on, sickly as he can be." Cullen is amused and also doing his level best to ignore the pink that _still_ stained the top of his cheeks and the tips of his ears from the purring statement she'd made – the one which had sounded so much more like a _promise_. "But getting away from prying eyes is never an easy task in a closed community such as this."

It was entirely inappropriate that they should be alone together in this moment, but Cullen found that even the duty bound part of himself wasn't protesting too loudly. There was something to be said for the fear one has when they know a loved one is going off to war, one way or another.  "I know I've said it many times since this afternoon, but please be careful." He leveled her with his best puppy-eyed gaze just then. "I know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself... But please, try not to be too reckless."

It warmed Merida's heart to hear that it was not just Cullen looking after her small bull-headed best friend.  For all she grumbled at and argued with and picked on them, she really did have a soft spot for these Circle mages - and even some of the Templars, though not all of them returned the cordial thoughts, she knew. 

She didn't miss the way that flush still lingered at his cheeks and ears; on the contrary, she relished it.  There was a part of her - that place deep in the pit of her stomach - that wanted to push, to test their boundaries and see what would happen when it broke free, but Merida had better control than that.  Fear was an excellent motivator - trumped only by great respect; for those two reasons, she behaved herself.  Mostly.

Sliding her arm from his, she turned just enough to face him, wrapping her arms around his middle and turning to breathe in against the skin of his neck, entirely heedless of the cold armor that pressed against her front.  It wasn't an embrace she intended to hold long - ever mindful of territory that might stray into making him uncomfortable - but it was one she had to give. 

Above and beyond all else, this man was one of her closest friends; she would miss his dry wit and good sense.  And when she loosened her hold on him and made to pull back, it was with a single, soft promise - the last one she'd make him.

"I do solemnly swear to save up all of my recklessness until next I return to this very Tower, where it may be dispelled safely under the watchful eye of my lord Captain."  The grin this time was cheeky.  "Will that do?"

Cullen felt the odd finality in the air as she made that promise to him, no matter how cheekily she'd meant it. He did his best to swallow down the bile that rose up in the back of his throat, pulling her back against him, careful of the plate that was solid between them. "I suppose it'll have to. Who knows, by the time you get back, I might be a Commander."  His heart hammered in his chest, and that he managed an answering cheeky grin felt like the largest of battles won, because all he wanted to do in that moment was beg her not to go at all.

Being pulled in against him once more was… entirely unexpected.  Merida tensed at first – unsure – then melted into the embrace for the last seconds of peace.  “Well then,” she added against his neck.  “I shall have to save up an extra supply of recklessness.  You’ll have a new office to break in, after all.”

She managed to extract herself from him and make it to her bed for the night; it was the hardest thing she could remember ever having to do.  It was a good thing he had resisted the urge to plead with her to stay.

She never could resist him.


	2. Chapter 2: You Have Brought Sin to Heaven

The journey between the mages’ tower and Highever Castle was never a particularly short one, but this time it seemed to drag interminably.  Merida had ridden out alone – as she had done on every visit since she was fifteen – and with only her black Amaranthine Charger mare for company there was nothing to draw her from her thoughts.  The enchanted sword at her back seemed to get heavier with every passing moment – even the memory of Taevan informing her it was called ‘Dragonstorm’ now wasn’t enough to lighten her mood.  Each swayed step under her felt like a death knell.

Merida had been raised a devout Andrastian; she had never had cause to doubt the existence of the Maker or the wisdom of that belief.  The core rules were simple and sensible; kindness, compassion, justice, charity, honor, loyalty… these were all virtues she could understand and strive toward.  That being said, however, Merida had always existed firmly inside this realm.  The mysticism surrounding the faith she had belonged to all her life had flown almost entirely over her head.  They made for good stories around a roaring winter’s fire, but that was all.  She was no Fade-wandering mage and preferred it that way.  This world she knew; this world she understood, even if she didn’t always like it.

But as she made her journey north, there was a strange sense of foreboding she simply could not shake, no matter how – or what – she tried.  It was a cold tightness in the pit of her stomach that kept her awake at night and made food turn to ash in her mouth.  She did not understand its cause, but it followed her through the next few weeks, worsening when her family gathered quietly together to say one final goodbye to Fergus before he took the bulk of their father’s forces to the south.  Her father would go with Arl Howe when his forces arrived in the next few days; her mother would leave to go and stay with friends.  She would be left entirely alone and that prospect frightened her more than she would ever let on.

That night, more than ever before, she was grateful for the coming arrival of Cullen’s family.  The family wing would stay as busy and full of life as it should and from what she knew, Mia at least would have little trouble speaking her mind if it looked like Merida was about to cock up everything entirely.  It did not matter that she had been trained, educated and prepared for this role (and roles like it) her entire life.  She would be flying without a net below her; that changed everything.

And then suddenly… suddenly everything did change – and did so entirely without her consent.

Merida Cousland had gone to bed with nerves but also excitement – her whole life stretched out before her and she had not forgotten those stolen moments at the Tower which had stirred dangerous hopes in her breast – but had greeted the dawn as an orphan, riding west with a Grey Warden who called himself Duncan as her only connection to the nightmare she had left behind in her childhood home.  In the span of hours she had gone from a teyrna to a conscript who would be tied to an order of legends out of myth.  The Warden had wanted to go immediately south, but Merida had dug her heels in once they were safely past Cousland territory.  There were travelers, she’d told him, on their way to stay with her.  She’d made arrangements for their party to stop, rest and resupply with her mother’s family at the Storm Coast and she would not allow them to simply ride on blind into Arl Howe’s treachery.  They would be safe on the Coast.

Half of her had expected some kind of fight – or to have a surprise pommel thrown at her head so that she could be dragged off to Ostagar in silence – but Duncan had only stared at her for a long moment and then nodded.  That, more than anything else, had gained him her respect.  She had made a promise and it was a promise she would keep.

\-------------

 

“What is it now?  Haven’t the Grey Wardens asked enough of the Circle?”

Ostagar was… an experience.

“Should I have asked her to write a note?”

In more ways than one.

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this – “

“That is _enough_ , Kafir.”

Needless to say, Merida’s patience was on its very last leg.

“I - you - what are _you_ doing here?”  There was recognition in Kafir’s face; it was cold, sick and ugly.  It had always reminded Merida a little too much of Rendon Howe’s simpering sneer for her own personal comfort and today that similarity was more than she could stomach.

“The King’s business, I’m afraid.”  She saw the widening of his eyes that quickly disappeared as shock turned into glaring envy.  It was almost better than the open-mouthed surprise on the face of the well-armed stranger standing next to him.  Her gambit had paid off; Kafir’s whole family had been wealthy nobility once – four or five generations back – and had never quite come to terms with their current irrelevance.  “I see you’ve managed to miss that this is an actual war and not, in fact, an afternoon tea with your shrew of a mother and her cadre of bitter old harpies.  I would imagine that would have sunk in by now, what with the soldiers and the ballista and the Darkspawn horde so large that it _blocks out the horizon_ \- not to mention the fact that centuries of tradition were bucked to bring you here at all, but I suppose you went and left your balls in your mother’s hope chest again.”  She clucked her tongue in mocking pity.  “Silly man.  Did she take your dick this time, too?”

It felt so good to unleash some of the vicious poison that had been churning in her gut the last week.  It was made even better by the expression on the armored man’s face – like he’d just been handed the best possible nameday gift by a qunari who may or may not kill him messily now that he had it.  It reminded her of Taevan – it reminded her of _Cullen_ – and that made it hard to keep a straight face, but she managed.

“Out of my way, _fool_ \- do you not know that I have an audience with the king’s _own_ Revered Mother?  I have no time for your foolishness, today.”

“But of course.  I apologize, I had no idea we were keeping Abital waiting.”

Her casual – intentional – use of the Revered Mother’s given name made him angry, but he swallowed it quickly as he marched off with all haste.  Merida watched him even deign to stop at the entrance to the tent and make extremely polite conversation with one of the sisters while waiting for admittance.

“Five minutes ago I thought I was going to have to _beg_ to get him to go to that meeting – forget actually being civil enough to be productive in it.”  The voice belonged to the armored stranger who’d come to stand at her shoulder, arms folded across his chest while they both watched the Circle mage disappear inside the Revered Mother’s tent with an obsequious bow.  The man shook his head in bewilderment and tilted his head just enough to angle a crooked smile in her direction.  “I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”

The implication that what she had just done – a manipulation much like a child’s scribblings in comparison to her mother’s subtle, brilliant artistry – was a kind of magic spell made her laugh.  The sound of it made his own smile grow bright and playful.  “There, see?  One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”  It was wicked, almost sing-song in tone.  It made her own mouth stay twisted in a grin as her laughter died down.

“You are a very strange man.”  She hadn’t meant that to come out so flirtatious, but it had been a long time since she’d bothered engaging anyone in this kind of conversational fencing who didn’t already know her personal style well enough not to misinterpret absolutely everything.

“You’re not the first woman to tell me that.”  He fired back so quickly – so easily – that it caught her by (pleasant) surprise.  “Wait…  I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”  She could have put him out of his misery and simply explained, but Merida found that she enjoyed the look of mild panic and concentrated frustration his confusion brought out on his face.  “Oh!  That’s right!  I _do_ know you.  You’re the new recruit Duncan brought in from Highever.  I should have recognized you right away, I apologize.”

There was a genuine contrition to his statement that she hadn’t expected from a quick-witted, sharp-tongued warrior; even the funny ones had a tendency to be arrogant tits until they were taken down a peg or two.  It was… intriguing.  “You must be Alistair.”

Merida always had enjoyed a good puzzle.

“Oh?  Did Duncan mention me?  Nothing bad, I hope.  As the junior member of the Order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”

Oh good; at least this wasn’t going to be boring.  Just at the moment, the last thing she wanted was to let her mind wander anywhere outside this immediate present.

“I am Merida.  It is a pleasure to meet you, Alistair.”

All evidence to the contrary, Merida _had_ been raised with an appropriate set of manners. 

“ _Right_.  That was the name.  Merida.”  He seemed to roll the word around on his tongue a bit before lighting on another topic.  “You know, it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens.  I wonder why that is.”

“I can handle myself.”  The defense was quick, simple – automatic, even.  There was no bite to it, nor really any emotion to it at all.  It was simply the answer she’d given almost everyone she’d met (at some point or another) for most of her life.  Once again, his response surprised her.

“I’m getting that impression.”  It was an oddly respectful answer, offered around a smile that was actually sincere and not… not mocking.  It was interesting to be sure, but he gave her no time to think on it.  “But we really should be getting back to Duncan.  I imagine he’s eager to get things started.” 

Which was a sensible enough sentiment, but Merida had one point of curiosity to satisfy, first.

“Wait – why did the Revered Mother send you out after Kafir?” she asked, only to answer her own question when she turned to face him properly and saw the way he was standing.  “Maker’s breath,” she exclaimed on a laughing sigh.  “You were a Templar before you were Conscripted, weren’t you?”

“I – yes… yes, I was.  How do you - ?”  The look of confused suspicion on Alistair’s face was too perfect.  Her responding grin must have been ridiculous.  She could feel it hurting her face.  She didn’t care one bit.  “Come to think of it, how do you and Lord Grumpy over there know each other?”  He looked her up and down one more time as though expecting a demon to leap out of her underthings.  “You’re… - “ he sighed mid-sentence “ – actually a mage, aren’t you?”

Part of her wanted to be offended by his reaction – on Tae’s behalf and on behalf of all the mages she rather liked at the Ferelden Circle – but she wasn’t ready yet to pass up the chance to poke at him just a little more.

“Oops, you caught me,” she replied, voice dripping in light-voiced sarcasm.  “I must have left my great big magical stick in my other dress.  Silly me.”  She dropped the sarcasm then only to shake her head.  “Do I look like a mage to you?”

Alistair’s whole face twitched backwards in something rather like a flinch before shuttering almost completely.

 “No, but that doesn’t – “  Ah, so he did not so much handle the direct frontal assaults all that well.  She’d remember that for next time.  For now, she cut him off with a small smile and a quiet assent, careful to step back from her earlier mockery.

“Doesn’t mean anything, I know.”  Alistair looked slightly mollified and at least a tiny bit interested, so she continued.  “My best friend discovered his magic when we were nine years old and a new merchant in the city square suddenly found himself on fire.”  The flat tone in which she relayed those events and the hard lines of her face said there was more to that particular story, but Alistair was smart enough not to press for them.  “I was the only one who’d sit with him while he waited for the Templars to come.  Even his own father was afraid of him.  I visited him as often as I could after that.  The older I got, the longer I could be away until the last few years I’ve almost been half one place and half the other.  The Circle tolerates it because it’s a steady source of income for them and I get on well with the First Enchanter.  Being Teyrn Cousland’s daughter has to have some benefit, I suppose.”

She watched his face change expression carefully while she told her story; it was odd that he knew she was from Highever but not that she was a Cousland.

“I – well, we, really.  We made a friend there who’s one of the Templar Knights.  You stand the same way he does.  Same stance means same or similar training, which usually means same or similar occupations.  And it makes sense that Mother Abital would send a Warden who used to be a Templar to fetch a mage.  She does so love reminding them they’re unwelcome.”  By this point, he was staring at her again.  It was… flattering, she supposed, but mostly a little unnerving.  Once was enough; by now the shine should have at least started to come off.  She’d been talking after all.  “Anyway, there you have it.  No big mystery, no magic, just an educated guess.”

Alistair was silent – dead silent – for a long moment after that.

“You,” he began, eyeing her sidelong and mirroring her own words from earlier, “are a _very_ strange woman.”

For some reason, that made her break out in a large, wolfish smile.

“You’re not the first man to tell me that.”

Her answer brought out his own cheeky grin and he turned to show her where Duncan’s part of the camp was.  If this was the company she’d be keeping, being a Grey Warden might not be so bad… provided they survived the night.

\-------------

The Joining had been bad – the battle had been worse.  Before that first week at Ostagar was out, King Cailan was dead and the Wardens in Ferelden all but wiped off the map.  It was with these grim tidings – bloodstained and filthy and worn down from their ordeal – that the first Templars and mages began returning to the Circle Tower. 

The moment Taevan heard horses at the gate, he raced down to the courtyard like the Void itself was nipping at his heels.

Cullen was already on the steps when Tae arrived, arms crossed and demanding a report from the lieutenant, eyeing the mages critically. There were fewer than had left and the weariness in their eyes warned him that nothing good had come of the battle. The way he stood when Tae stepped ahead of him changed, enough that he would be able to reach and touch the young mage's shoulder should the worst have come to pass.

If that was the case, it would be the only promise Merida had ever made that ended up broken. Cullen felt the world slow as the leading Templar, a sour fellow by all accounts, opened his mouth to speak.

"He's dead."

That... was not an auspicious beginning.

"King Cailan is dead."

This news was not well-received by those mages assembling.  It made Irving and Greagoir look - if possible - even older than their advanced years.  Cailan had been a popular king - his father even more so.  To lose him to the Darkspawn - especially with the question of an heir still unanswered - was a heavy tragedy.

"What happened, Ser Loren?"  Irving's voice was kind, even now; it seemed to be his default state of existence. 

"The Grey Wardens killed him - betrayed His Majesty and took him right into a Darkspawn trap - led us all into it!  If it hadn't been for Loghain's quick thinking, we'd all be dead!"

That set the crowd abuzz, but Irving soon held his hand up again for silence. 

"How many have we lost?"  Notably, those old eyes did not see Wynne among the mages returning; several mages commented on how terribly sad Irving looked at that loss.  Taevan was more interested in the look of pale devastation that so very quickly crossed the Knight Commander's face. 

"No one, sir.  The healers and their guard stayed back at the rendezvous point to treat the injured.  They'll come north when they have seen to their duties."

Taevan had lost patience for this, elbowing his way forward past a small throng of taller, broader mages.

"What about Merida?" he demanded, standing at the front of the crowd now and staring up defiantly at the knight in question.  He was rewarded with a tired sneer.

"Who?"

"What do you mean 'who'?  She's practically lived here as long as I have, you stupid - "

"Oh, you mean the Great Red Bitch?"  That sneer had very quickly transformed into a highly unpleasant smile.  "Didn't you know?  Conscripted into the Grey Wardens, she was.  Probably needed her blue fucking blood to get to His Majesty."  He turned and spat on the ground in a truly foul display.  "Traitorous slut killed our king!  What do you think we did, hey?  We left her to die with her new friends when the Horde came through."

He couldn't have hit Taevan harder if he'd struck a physical blow.

Cullen was faster than any Templar there, saw what Taevan was about to do, and how very devastating it would have been with the Commander and First Enchanter right there to witness a so called loss of control, even in the face of such emotional upset. He moved through the crowd without having to shove his way, hand on Tae's shoulder and let out controlled burst of Silence, not enough to remove his ability to cast completely, but a warning.

"What did you call Merida Cousland, Ser Loren?" His voice was hard, in a way that almost no one else congregated had ever heard from the usually friendly Templar. Cullen was in no mood. "You think an Heir of Teyrn Bryce Cousland would turn against her King?"

He didn't wait; his gauntleted fist balled and met the other man's jaw with force enough to crack bone. Consequences be damned, he would not hear anyone slander Merida the way Loren had. "I hear you repeat such filth again, and I -"

Cullen never got the chance to finish the threat, grabbed as he was by three of his fellows and dragged back.  Greagoir glared him down with a dark and furious contempt before waving them away.

"That's enough all of you! Everyone back into the tower. Returning Knights, clean up, eat up and meet for a debriefing. Irving, see to your lot."

Rationally, Tae knew that Cullen had just saved his life.  He was grateful... somewhere in the back recesses of his mind where sanity had retreated so as not to face the cold and awful truth.

But Merida was dead and he had no _room_ for other thoughts.  The sound of snapping bone was satisfying, but Tae could do so much worse to him before he died.  The temptation was unmistakably there and had it not been for a timely brush of blue against the back of his mind, Tae may have thrown away his life all the same.  Instead, he turned and fled into the wooded marsh on the other side of the island - toward the place where he had gathered blood lotus not so very long ago - until he had all but disappeared into the gloom.  Several of the knights made to draw their swords and give chase, but Irving held up his hand. 

"Let the boy be.  Grief is a terrible weight to carry on shoulders so young."  It was a terrible weight on _his_ shoulders and he had not been young in so very many years.

\-------------

Cullen was shut up in one of the cells in the lower dungeon of the tower, usually reserved for mages awaiting the Tranquility rite. He was no longer bound, but knelt on the ground, bowed with his hands curled into fists on his knees, wrists together. There was an unnatural stillness to him, even as he heard the heavy, quick footsteps of an angry Commander.

"Your actions today were a disgrace to the Order you swore yourself to, Cullen." The Commander stood imperiously on the other side of the bars, hoping and praying that maybe, just maybe now – now with the Cousland bitch out of the way – Cullen would become the powerful soldier he was meant to be. "I should have you written up and demoted. Sent to another Circle. But the fact of the matter is, the other Knights look to you as an example. They trust their Captains in ways they would never trust their Commander.”

There's a sadistic kind of glee in his voice as he levels out Cullen's punishment then. "You're going to sit down here for a fortnight and think on what you've done. Pray for guidance that you might realize the seriousness of your actions. You will be brought water three times a day and food once... You will not have your philter."

Golden eyes, cold as ice chips finally raised to the man who he had looked so often to as a pillar of strength and righteousness. "You would have me beg for my freedom, then."

There was a very pregnant pause where the Commander looked smug, only to have the expression drop at Cullen's final words.

"I will not."

\-------------

Locking Cullen away - as it turns out - was the stupidest thing Greagoir could possibly have done.  Four nights into his punishment, the gossip had finally circulated almost everywhere; little Taevan Surana had escaped.  Now considered an apostate mage, some even whispered 'abomination' amongst themselves.  He always had been a wild child and even the Templars who loathed her had to admit that Merida had been the best at keeping him out of any real trouble. 

The guard who brought him water that night was only too happy to share that tidbit of news.

But that was only the beginning. 

Cullen - and his sheer strength of will - had been the biggest obstacle in the way of those mages who sought reform at the sword's edge.  With their knowledge of his emotional entanglements and the weakness brought on by lack of sustenance and the earliest stages of lyrium withdrawal, well...

The blood mages had their chance.

Ten days after Cullen had been thrown defiantly into that Tranquil cell - while Merida met a highly unusual Chantry sister and released a qunari from death at the hands of the Horde - Uldred and his followers unleashed their attack; hard, fast and merciless.

Ten days into lyrium withdrawal should have rendered Cullen unstable at best and completely useless at worst, unable to wean himself off as most do that try to kick the habit. It was a testament to his training and willpower that he was able to fight at all, dragged from the cell and handed a sword and told to fight by one of the more reliable Captains. Not everyone was so blind as Greagoir.

Cullen had been the last Templar standing that had not been killed or ensnared by the blood mage's magic. When physical torture did not have the slightest effect in breaking his will, they moved on and hit him where he hurt the most. He was trapped in a kind of feedback loop of visions of Merida's death in a thousand ways, each more horrible than the last.

The worst, and the one that nearly broke him, was the image of him being the one that had killed her – a knife to the back in not stopping her from leaving for home. They had made a calculated error however, in their plot.

They conjured her likeness. A demon of some kind no doubt. She came to him and begged him to set aside his duty. That all the pain and suffering would end if he would just let go. They could be together if he would only quit his vows.

But _Merida_ would never have asked such a thing of him.

Bloody and pulling himself back from the breaking point, he spit on the thing wearing his Merida's face.

"Go back to the Void you crawled out of, filth."

\-------------

Treaties in hand, there hadn't been a single hesitation in Merida's mind where they would go first in search of aid once they left Lothering's misery behind them.  If she was going to go gallivanting off to save the bloody world from creatures out of twisted nightmares, she was damn well going to do it with her two best friends at her side. 

She and Alistair were the last two Wardens in Ferelden; she would invoke the Rite of Conscription if she had to.  Not even Greagoir could stand against that. 

The first red flag was meeting Carroll at the docks.  One of the more unfortunate examples of what can happen when a mind gets too much lyrium, poor Carroll was thicker than mud and strangely obstinate.  They persuaded him to take them across the lake, but it had taken the combined flattery of her, Leliana and Morrigan (who, it turned out, was a surprisingly talented actress) in order to accomplish such a feat.

Sinking feeling in her gut aside, it wasn't until Merida set foot inside the entrance hall and saw the mess of what looked like a base camp and a field hospital rolled into one that she knew something had gone wrong.

"Greagoir!" she called out ahead of herself as her small pack advanced further into the room.  "What in the Maker's name is going on here?"

Nevermind that a good half the Templars in the front hall looked almost exactly like they'd seen a ghost.  Frankly, she had more important things on her mind.

"I'm still Commander of this Tower and you'll address me as such, traitor. Give me one good reason I shouldn't put you in the dungeons right now and call for Teyrn Loghain's men to come and fetch you." That Greagoir hadn't already done so was a testament to what a mess this place actually was. The last thing he needed was for the current monarch to get wind that the Tower was not under Templar control. He had already sent for the Rite of Annulment.

"Ten days after the massacre at Ostagar, blood mages seized control of the uppermost floors of the tower." It was a young Templar Knight, barely past his vows that spoke up. "They ran amok, much as we tried to stop them. It was like they knew where to hit us. They took prisoners to their floors. This is the only safe place in the Tower now. We got a few mages out, fewer Templars."

Anyone with the sense to know when his commander was being a tit and the balls to do something about it was a good egg in Merida's book. When Samuel stepped up to explain the goings on, Merida gave him her full - respectful - attention. It was certainly more than Greagoir got.

"That is enough, Ser Samuel." Greagoir ground out, obviously on edge from losing so much control over everything. 

"See? This. This is why you won't do any of that. You know there's trouble and you know I can help. You may dislike me - you may even have reason to dislike me - but much as you might wish me a traitor's death, you know better than to really believe I am one." Merida kept her voice even, steady. She was not feeling particularly kind, but not was she stupid. "And besides all that, I would dearly love to see you try."

The Commander was quick to turn that venom back on Merida. "If your pet mage hadn't gone apostate, none of this would have ever happened. That boy was trouble and should have been made Tranquil as I'd instructed!"

Because it wasn't just her standing in his entrance hall - not even just her and Fury - but a small army of powerful individuals. They had taken down Darkspawn and wiped the floor with Loghain's best men. She was not frightened of Greagoir. "Now, if you'll pleas- " but he had finally managed to catch her off-guard and her face paled and crumbled before coalescing into hard, leashed rage.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she demanded. "Taevan would never do this. He'd never do anything to hurt his friends here and Cullen _always_ has -”

It was why she had trusted Tae to his care. But if - oh Maker...

"There are two problems with your story, Greagoir," she snarled, advancing on the older fighter with slow, predatory steps. "One, Tae has always been under control. He couldn't have done this. Two, even if he wasn't, how could he be responsible when he's not even here?"

Finally she stood mere inches from his face, furious and unafraid.

"Where the _fuck_ is Cullen?"

Because if Tae really was gone (and Merida was not yet prepared to think about a world without her excitable best friend) then she had exactly one responsibility left in this tower and nothing else mattered.

Greagoir stood his ground, even if his face went a shade or two paler in the face of her fury. He would not answer her questions, would not give her the satisfaction of being right once again. He was old and a fool, and refused to see where he had gone so wrong.

Ser Samuel spoke up again, his voice hushed because even in the short time he'd been at the Circle Tower, he'd come to respect the Captain. "Taken, milady. He was fighting on the fourth floor the last anyone saw him. He..."

"Shut up, Samuel!" Greagoir looked afraid then.

"No Ser, I'm sorry Ser." Samuel's voice shook at defying his Commander so openly.

"Cullen knocked Ser Loren in the face good when he come back from Ostagar, insulted you right proper and the Captain wouldn't stand for it. The Commander locked 'im up in one of Tranquil cells." One of the other Knights spoke up, older and more jaded on Greagoir than the new recruit. "Barely any food or water and no lyrium. I'm the one that dragged 'im out to fight when ever'thing started goin' sideways. Shoulda been half outta his mind, ten days without 'is lyrium. But Cullen stood right up, brushed 'imself off and lead the effort to take back the upper floors."

"He had to call retreat, though, milady Warden. Got captured while the remaining Templars got the few of us mages that they tried to rescue out." One of the younger mages spoke up as well, ducking her head and shuffling away from the Templars.

There was fear in Greagoir's face now; that fear was enough to tell Merida everything she could ever possibly need to know.  It was true.  All of it.  Every last word and then some.  With one hand, she drew Dragonstorm from its sheath across her back, swinging it almost lazily over her head and bringing it to bear in a ready stance facing the Commander.

Alistair opened his mouth and made to intervene, but Morrigan stopped him with a hand on his arm and a single shake of her head.  Not usually inclined to listen when given even sensible advice from their resident apostate, Alistair scowled in her direction, shook off her hand and strode forward.  It wasn't necessary.

"I will give you a choice, Greagoir.  Either you stand aside so I can clean up your mess or I will start now with you."  There was a darkness in her tone, a low and threatening flavor.  It was the echo of the hawk on the wind or the dragon in its den; this was no noble lady Cousland on a glorious quest.

This was a wolf in search of its pack and there was no room left in her for human thoughts like honor and politics.  Those would undoubtedly come later - she was no brute or barbarian - but it would be a long later.

Turning aside without bothering to wait for Greagoir's reply - as though his choice really didn't matter in the end - Merida addressed those remaining.

"Captain Raleigh," she began, inclining her head with a predator's respect for the man who'd shown sense - who had given Cullen the means to defend himself and others.  "I assume someone has already been dispatched after the Rite of Annulment.  Send riders to Caer Oswin and tell Bann Loren that his brother has been taken hostage.  If he sends his archers and cavalry to the Tower's command, he can be assured they will arrive only just too late to save his life before they are of use to the safety of everyone else."

Merida did not expect anyone else in the room to be as politically aware as she had to be.  That made it a gamble, asking one of the Captains to follow orders that made no sense and did not come from his Commander.  She knew that.  She didn't care.  This was too important for delicate feelings.

"Ser - Samuel, right?  You've got a good head on your shoulders and that's a rare boon in a crisis."  Because she had seen how defiance of his Commander had shaken him and Merida knew that she would have to soothe that uncertainty if this was to have any chance of success.  "Gather together the mages you've saved.  They need to erect a Barrier around the Tower.  There is one that will allow humans to pass out of it but not demons or abominations.  The Senior Enchanters will know what to do and they can organize the rest, but they'll need your help - and your protection while they cast it.  Can you do that?"

She had a plan - the broad strokes of one, anyway - but it was so hard to care about anything else with the knowledge that Cullen had been taken by the demons looming over her.  Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure why she bothered with the rest of them at all.  She was perfectly capable of cutting her way through to him and returning with her single Conscript, but...

But even the possibility of seeing those burnt gold eyes turned on her in disappointment was enough to keep her to the whole task and not just the facet about which she cared.

Damn him for being such a genuinely good man.  Damn herself for caring.  Damn Greagoir for making everything so much more difficult.  Just... just damn them all.

The Captain nodded back, leaning on his shield and was quick to carry out the orders. "You lot heard the Warden. We've got work to do. You two, to Caer Oswin. The rest split up into teams. I want half with Ser Samuel and the Mages, the rest with me an' the Warden. If you aren't comfortable following these orders, stand aside."

"There is a qunari warrior at the docks," Merida told the two knights being sent to Caer Oswin.  "Tell him you've been sent on my orders and take him with you.  My mare will seat him easily enough and he has experience against the Darkspawn in case the Horde has forward scouts in the forest."

Greagoir had turned a very interesting shade of purple, seeing his men hurry to follow the orders of some outside force. He opened his mouth to stop all this nonsense when the pommel of a sword pressed to his chest.

"I'll have your rank for this, Raleigh." The Commander snarled at the older warrior.

"You've threatened that before, ol' friend. 'S why I'm still a Captain. You ain't doing what needs bein' done. My sworn oath is the protection of this circle and its mages. _You_ took the same oath. Or 'ave you forgott'n?"

"Milady Warden, I've gathered the Senior Enchanters and some of the younger ones whose magic is suited to this work. There's one mage who insists she'd be of more use to you in the fight than holding a barrier." Samuel sounded more sure of himself as almost all the other templars scrambled to do as they had been told. He still looked warily at the showdown between Raleigh and Greagoir however.

Samuel wasn't the only one watching the two old stags knocking racks.  Merida had always had a sense for the placement of power in a room - a natural talent that her father had been only too glad to hone and make use of - and watching Raleigh step up was not only important but interesting - on multiple levels.

The attitudes of Greagoir and many of the younger Knights had made her wary of Templars in general, taught her to keep her distance.  Seeing this now, Merida honestly regretted having allowed herself to be so influenced.

She quite liked _this_ Captain Raleigh.

Ser Samuel's report was acknowledged with a sharp nod.  Under better circumstances she would have had a grin for him too, but just now she was having a bit of trouble mustering the necessary facial muscles to comply.  "I have a sneaking suspicion I know just exactly who that was, too."

"Such a suspicious sort you are, my dear.  Too suspicious, for one so young."

And though Merida couldn't muster a smile for her either, the arrival of Wynne and her quiet, down-to-earth wit was a palpable relief.

"I was hoping it'd be you.  You'll know the Tower better than any of us."

"Not to... put a damper on the party or anything."  The new voice was Alistair's, though he looked just as uncomfortable as he sounded.  "But what exactly are we walking into up there?  Is it just blood mages having their monthlies in a really bad way or have they - "

"They've ripped open the Veil, Alistair."  Wynne, thankfully, had some experience with the former Templar and slid easily into an informational role while Merida went to speak quietly with the Templar quartermaster.  "Demons have been roaming the halls for days and too many have been forced into abominations.  The way will not be easy."

"It never is." Merida added, returning to distribute the available medicinal supplies among her people with a grim expression and a slowly sinking stomach.  "But it must be done.  We need this place in top form if it’s to be of use against the Blight and I will not abandon my friend to die up there alone."

There was a bitter fury boiling just under the calm and quiet surface of her words.  It made everyone uncomfortable, but it was Leliana who reached out and laid a hand on her arm.

"We are ready."

Merida sucked in a long, deep breath, nodded sharply and then turned on her heel.  "Captain Raleigh, how many of your men come with us into the Tower proper?"

Raleigh did not look away from Greagoir's furious gaze when he answered, knowing better than to give the other man any quarter. "Seven, your ladyship. There’re five wi'h Samuel an' the Mages. The three over by th' door are... disinclined to follow the current orders. Tha's all we got." Raleigh stepped back then, lifting his shield and turning his sword in hand with a practiced swing. "We're ready when you are, milady."

He stepped closer then, aged eyes bright and alert in his wizened face. "If anyone's survived up there, 's Cullen. He's a strong lad, one of the best, you know tha'. Don't lose focus, n' matter wha' ya see, lass. They'll use your anger, your fear for 'im to get inta your head. Don't lettum." The words were serious, but kind. He was not wary of her fury as so many in the room were. If she used it right, most of them would make it out alive.

The soft words, the low advice that settled some of the jittery energy inside of her.  "I know," she answered quietly.  It served for a lot of things.  She knew Cullen was one of the best; she knew the demons would try to get into her head; she knew they would use him against her if given the chance.

She wouldn't give them the chance.

"I'll make them bleed instead."

Merida was no mage, but the crackling of miniature lightning up and down the blade of her great sword gave away her raw emotions the same as any elemental staff.  The numbers he gave sounded about right - about what she had expected.  Good. 

"My people will go in first.  We can move quickly and eliminate the worst of the threats as we pass.  You and your men follow and do a broader sweep of each level to make sure we catch everything important.  A thorough cleanup can come later, but I need to get up to the top fast and I can't be worried about being flanked while I do it."  Because even leaving aside the fact that Cullen was in danger, the longer the creatures in charge of this invasion were allowed to live, the more difficult they would make the task altogether.  "Take Morrigan with you.  She is a powerful shifter and has magic that will protect the minds of your men from anything you find."

"An apostate mage babysitting a small herd of mage killers?  How droll."

"Morrigan..."

"Yes, yes, I know.  Play nice with the children in the shiny hats.  If some idiot tries to kill me, however - or convert me to Andraste with pamphlets and readings of the Chant - I will make him _into_ a hat."

Her dry, vicious sarcasm spoke to Merida's soul on a fundamental level.  It was part of why she so enjoyed Morrigan - even when her presence caused more trouble than it was worth.  Especially when -

"Captain Raleigh, I place my life and dignity in your capable hands."

\- when she turned on the charm.

With Dragonstorm in her hand and her companions at her back, Merida stepped through the open doors and marched on the demonic forces of the Tower, Void-bent on a path of swift and terrible destruction.  The Captain was as good as his word, the force of Templars and Morrigan doing what they could do mop up after the swath of destruction that Merida created on her way through the Tower halls.

Morrigan - deciding that she liked the old veteran's sense of humor well enough and perhaps just a little bit pleased that there were to be no pamphlets - buckled down and did phenomenal work. She saved several lives that day - some from very close calls.  An apostate mage she may have been, but she was not completely evil.

Not that she expected the history books to remember that part, of course.

They never did.

\-------------

Cullen stood in his magic made prison, able to hear the sounds of battle echoing up to him. There had not been such noise since the force behind him had fallen back.

How long that had been, the Captain could not even comprehend.

Were the demons trying a subtler method to get into his mind and break him? It would not happen, they would have to kill him.

\-------------

Those who did not know her - those uneducated in Fade lore and the natures of demons - might have mistaken Merida for one such unholy beast. By the time she ascended to the appropriate floor, she was covered in blood; some from maleficar and abominations, some from demons and some, it had to be said, of her own.

Seeing Cullen's brightly-lit prison from across the chamber made her heart stop in her chest. Was he - ?

With brutal, merciless efficiency she cut down everything that stood in her path, her focus entirely on reaching the other side of the room - on reaching him.

She was not prepared for the sloth demon. Even if she had been, there was no way to resist that kind of magic.

Funny that they should have left a Sloth demon and his Desire pet to guard Cullen...

And that was the last wakeful thought she had for a rather long time.

\-------------

Why did destroying such things have to involve the Fade? Ugh, but she'd be itching at phantom whiskers for weeks if they lived through this.

\-------------

They were trying to break him again. It seemed an endless cycle, with the demons growing more and more frustrated that he would not bend to their whims as so many others had.

This was a new tactic, pulling him deeply into the Fade itself and warping his dreams. No matter what the demons did, he remained steadfastly on his knees, bent only in prayer. He ignored every word, every touch and temptation. He focused on his faith, but even that could not quell the white-hot anger that bubbled inside him. They always wore _her_ face.

And it was getting increasingly difficult to tell that it was a demon behind that familiar not-smile.

\-------------

The first dream that captured Merida was weak. She had not known Duncan long enough - did not care enough about what it meant to be a Grey Warden outside of stopping the Blight - for it to take hold. When she questioned? It broke, shattering the illusion and forcing her to fight and kill a man she had come to respect.

That had been bad enough, but after she'd found Niall, been gifted with Mouse and Fire and Golem, she was pulled deeper, pulled into another.

This one was so much more devious.

Her parents lived and their embrace made her feel like somehow everything would turn out all right. She ran out of the Tower and swept Tae into a hug that lifted him clear off his feet. That he tolerated it - clung back to her, even - should have been her first clue, but she didn't want to see. She wanted this one to be real and that desire made all the difference.

She chattered to Tae at length - about everything, about nothing - and mostly ignored the strange looks he kept shooting her way. That is... until they found Cullen kneeling in a field on the northern side of the island.

Breathing out his name on a sharp exhalation, Merida pulled the arm from around Tae's shoulders and ran, dropping to the ground beside of Cullen, calling his name but her hands hovering over him as though afraid to touch him anywhere before she knew the location and extent of his injury.

That was when Tae figured it out.

"Merida," he called slowly, then again when she did not respond - a warning in his voice. Finally it softened as he approached them both at a walk. "Meri, this isn't real.  I don't know how long you've been dreaming but we need to get you out of here before your jailer drains all the light from your soul."

Merida fought him, she resisted and struggled against the pervasive truth that was piercing her dream state like an Antivan blade. She fought against the oncoming loss like a cornered wild thing, but in the end, she lifted teary eyes to Taevan in one last bit of defiance.

"I won't leave him."

Because she knew this wasn't real, but oh, Andraste, she wanted it to be - and even when it wasn't, Cullen knelt at prayer still felt too real.

He would never abandon his duty, but she would never abandon him.

"I love him, Tae." The confession came easily, as truths tended to do in dreams.

"I know," Tae answered softly, a deep sadness etched into the lines of his young face. "But if you stay here, you will die."

"I don't care. I'm not abandoning him."

And though this sentiment was something Taevan normally would have been entirely on board with, he could sense the energy around the praying Templar. He knew that there had been demons at his throat.

But he didn't have the heart to tell Merida that there might not be anything of Cullen left inside his soul, so he sighed and nodded instead.

"Very well. Help him break the hold on his mind, if you can. But Merida - be gentle. Something has clawed at him from the inside out."

\-------------

He could hear their voices, and still he knelt with eyes closed and folded hands touching his lips, mumbling the Chant under his breath. Taevan was a new addition to the demon's trickery, and that he was trying to convince this fake Merida that he couldn't be saved... It was all very odd, but perhaps it was a ploy to get him to react. All other attempts had failed.

His eyes squeezed shut when she came closer again, his soul as tense as his body would have been in this same situation. If only it was as simple here in the realm of spirits and demons as it was in the physical world. If he could cut down these enemies with his sword, this would have been over and done with long ago.

Her voice... Oh how he missed that voice. The touch of her hand made his breath hitch in his chest, and the next words, for as strong as he wished them to be, came out as a rough whisper. "Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just... Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written."

\-------------

Merida heard the start of that rough whisper, forming words she had heard throughout her entire life... and she joined them, adding her quiet and steady voice to his.

"... In their blood, the Maker's will is written. I know, darling. I know."

The hand at his back moved in soothing circles, slowly - tenderly - offering calm reassurance. She did so at her own pace, unwilling to rush him even with Tae's impatient twitching.

"Cullen, if you can hear me, listen. They took my family from me - Mother, Father, Fergus, even little Oren. They're all gone. The King is gone. The Grey Wardens are gone. I was betrayed at Highever and we were all betrayed at Ostagar. The price of my survival was my service. The Blight is coming, my love. I can hear the Archdemon in my dreams, now."

She moved her hand higher, pushing hair back off his face and stroking her fingers gently through sweat-tangled strands.

"You've done so well, Cullen. You have been stronger than anyone I know. I know you're tired. I know you're hurting. I know no one deserves a rest more than you. But -"

She had to stop and breathe in sharply there against the emotion in her throat that threatened to choke her.

"But your work is not yet done, darling. I know it's hard but I need you to fight. Shake the demon from your mind and come back to me. The world is crumbling around my ears; people are dying and I can't save them alone. I need you fighting at my side. Please. Fight this and come back to me."

And for a moment – just a moment – all was quiet.

"You tell me my work is not done... But how can I trust your words when all the demons have done is steal your face. The only face I could think to trust in this madness and now... I don't know. They never get it quite right, but they're so close now... How do I know this isn't just another trick?" She was right, he was tired, so tired of fighting this. All he wanted was peace from the face that haunted him constantly.

_All they have done is steal your face._

There was a part of Merida that flipped over at that statement - a reaction of which she would be ashamed forever. Why would they bother unless...

Hands dropped to the ground below him, fingers curling and sinking into the strange earth. Golden eyes remained closed, a new verse upon his lips. "Maker, my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion should they set themselves against me. Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure."

As if shaking a great weight from his shoulders, the Templar stood, golden eyes dark and mistrustful, but he would not bow. In his hands appeared his sword and shield even if he remained unarmored. "If what you are saying is true, and you are not the face of another demon, you must prove it, and if I do not believe you... I will run you through where I stand. I have had enough tricks to last a lifetime, so choose that what you would convince me with carefully."

As he rose in broken defiance, Merida saw the injury that had been done to his soul, the wounds which had been inflicted upon it.

In an old Templar trick, Cullen slowly emptied his thoughts of everything but light and peace. That the demons had yet to grasp the fundamental relationship Merida and he had shared meant that they had not yet gotten to his deepest thoughts and feelings - and that they would fail at this task.

"Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting. You have brought sin to Heaven and doom upon all the world."  Those words left her lips as wet and ragged whispers, the tears that had threatened before finally spilling over her lashes and down her face.  "I did this to you."

And that realization - that she had been used to harm the person she would gladly die to protect - hit her so hard she couldn't breathe.

"Strike me down then, if it will free you. I will not raise arms against you." She stood then, chin held high as though there was no wetness on her face nor agony in her soul. "I could no sooner carve my own heart from my chest."

There was no hesitation in him then, raising his sword and striking out at her. Only at the last second did he stall himself, turning the blade flat and holding it still less than a handful of inches from her cheek, breathing ragged even with the effort of such a motion. "Merida? Maker you really would have let me..."

Sword and shield dropped, melting away into nothing before they even passed his knees.  Arms once again strong pulled her hard against him, breathless laughter and the horrible agony that would never truly fade mixed together to make his voice rough. "You crazy, foolish woman. Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me?" His hands were on her shoulders and shaking her slightly, as though that would get his point across, before he held her tight again. 

"I hear you," she began, melting into his embrace like a lovesick fool and wrapping her own arms tightly around him in return. "But I will not make that promise."  She would let him shake and scold without complaint, happy beyond words just to have him alive again, himself again and held safely here in her arms. But she would not agree to that demand. His life meant everything to her; if by her life or death she could protect him, she would.

"Maker, I hate the Fade. We need to get out of here. There are demons in the tower, abominations... I don't know how many made it out while I held them off..." Everything was garbled as he came flooding back to himself.

"Shh, hush love, hush. They're gone. The lower levels are clear again." Which would explain why even unarmored in the Fade, she was still splattered with blood. "Once we are free of this place, only Uldred and his inner circle remain."

And she would stain the Tower with their blood before she was through.

"I do not know how weak my body has become, but I'll be of no use to you in a physical fight." He'd been useless before this event, starved for food and lyrium as he had been and that was... however long ago. There was no way to keep track of time in this Maker forsaken place.

"You're safe, now. Captain Raleigh and his men are doing a sweep behind us. It's almost over. We just need to get out of here. Can you walk? There are lyrium veins here that can heal you. We just need to find one."

Lyrium... Maker how long had he been without it?  "I think I can walk. I've knelt in prayer for so long now... How... How long has it been?" Hours? Days? Weeks? He had no way of knowing in this disorienting landscape where there was no night or day, just endless twilight.

Merida’s face lost some of its simple joy when he asked her that. "A week since the Tower was compromised. Three weeks since the battle at Ostagar."

She had been so afraid that she'd never see him again, forget holding him so close. It made her blissfully unaware of the way Tae's expression was slowly crumpling into something both sour and thoughtful.

"I hate to disagree with you, Merida... But there is nowhere safe as long as we are stuck here..."

She cast out with her mind as she'd learned quickly to do in this place, locating the feeling of musical crystals embedded in the foundation stone. She was facing the wrong way to see the pale and horrified look on Tae's face when she did it, so there wasn't hesitation for her when she gently - carefully - disentangled herself from Cullen and took a step back.

"You're safe as long as you're with me." It was said lightly, as though they were simply bantering like they had always done. "I've learned a thing or two while killing the demons that run this place."

And with a flick of her wrists and a flash of white light, Merida took on the form of the Golem, stepping gracelessly around Tae to smash a boulder with one great fist. As it crumbled, she took on her own form again and jogged back to wriggle herself under Cullen's arm with a bright grin - for there was a lyrium vein in the wreckage.

"See? I can do anything here."

Cullen's horror was as stark as Taevan's, though the draw of the lyrium was powerful. He shook himself free of her and stumbled backward. "What... Are you a demon after all then? Have I fallen so far as to be tricked by my own heart?"

Ending up on the ground again, Cullen curled in on himself, not having the same understanding of the Fade as Taevan or even Merida. "Curse you all! I will not give in to your temptation again! Not the Lyrium or the faces of those I hold most dear!"

"What? No! No, no, no..." Merida's heart broke and her joy plummeted out through the crevices. "It's me, Cullen. It's me. It's just this place - it's all one big dream, yeah? You can do what you like if you just will it so." She didn't know the theory - she was no mage and certainly no scholar - but she tried anyway. "Your sword and shield. You had them when you made to strike me but where are they now? You dropped them. They should be at your feet, but they're not. It's the same. I met people who were dreaming - I saved them from their nightmares and they showed me - I - "

She turned to Taevan then with a look of open desperation on her face. Heaving a sigh, he took over, keeping his voice calm and level.

"The Fade is where we go to dream, she is right. There are those who are more sensitive to the Fade in their dreams than others. If she met some of those Dreamers here, they could have showed her how to manipulate the Fade to give her what she needed to slay the demons.  If she isn't Merida, then she is a Fade spirit or else the most perfect liar I have ever encountered in a demon."

"What? No! Who else would I be but me?"  Merida's shock came through her voice loud and clear. But then... but then it was replaced by realization and a stubborn resolve. "Prove it to him."

Taevan immediately opened his mouth to protest but she didn't give him time.

"Do it, Taevan. I know it works, I helped you test it."

"It's an invasion. There's a reason I never presented that spell to the Enchanters."

"I don't care. We don't have time for anything else - we won't make it out of here if he keeps expecting me to turn on him.  Do it now."

Tae sighed and muttered a heavy string of curses under his breath. He hated this spell. He hated it when she was right. But he hated his home and friends in trouble more. So with a deep scowl he cast, engulfing Merida in lazy blue light that slowly seeped inside of her... and then turned her mind inside out.

Everything was out there, floating between Merida and her two friends like a hazy, soupy fog. The fear and shame and nauseating sickness of a child touched by a stranger in ways no woman would ever countenance - and the relief when Taevan's rage and sudden fire saved her. The petty jealousy of her sister-in-law's hold on her brother and the rest of her family as she grew the next generation of Couslands - and the way that bitterness melted into wonder and love when she held little Oren for the first time. The feeling of flying across the land on her mare and flying across the sea on her ship - the burn of muscle as she executed her drills for the hundredth time in a day. The awe, the respect, the adoration and desire that Cullen stirred in her. The absolute agony of losing her parents and her home - the relief of seeing the family she had promised to protect hale and whole and safely kept with her aunts. The hesitant ray of sunshine that was Alistair, the kindred spirit that was Morrigan, the nauseating agony of the Joining… of being no longer who she once was and standing alone against the darkness.

There were no secrets here. It was the entirety of who and what she was, placed on a complete - if temporary - display.

This, this act of faith and trust... It shocked Cullen back to his feet as he saw everything that made up the woman he had so fallen for. There were things that he didn't look to closely at – elements of her past that were not his secrets to know – but the recent things... Ostagar, the betrayal that lead to the end of the Couslands, and the feelings she had harbored for him without ever saying a word.

"Enough. Taevan, please... I understand now." Or at least sort of.  Brushing himself off, Cullen could not look Merida in the eye at first.  Seeing so much had left him feeling… strangely raw – and he was not the only one. Merida was a private person at heart. Taevan had seen most of this before and didn't care about her any less, but Cullen was a risk.

A huge risk.

But if it got them out of here alive, well... she could learn to live with that.

He moved – slowly, but under his own power – toward the lyrium vein that Merida had uncovered, the sweet song of it soothing the ragged edges of his mind and filling him again in all the ways that had been lacking since he had been imprisoned. The stiffness in his body eased and as he shook himself armor replaced the plain clothing he'd been in, shield on his back and sword on his hip.

"That feels much better. Now, I don't suppose the 'we can do anything in our dreams' applies to escaping as well. That would be far too simple." He caught Taevan's gaze first and then Merida's, a smile lingering at the corners of his eyes, the small nod a promise to speak when all of this madness was over.

"Not hardly. We need to wake up the rest of the dreamers to unlock the sloth demon's island. At least, that's what Niall and I worked out."

Merida took a moment to arm herself as well. Her own Dawnstone plate settled over her body; the blood was wiped clean from her skin and her long mess of red hair braided back and wrapped into a crown around her head. Dragonstorm sat securely at her back and she felt a little more ready to go out and face down whatever awaited them.

Hope, as it turned out, was a very powerful thing.

Now that Cullen could look around and move around without fear of being trapped by the demons who had tormented him, he decided that the Fade was a very strange place. He knew the world of dreams must be, but this... Maybe it was because there were so many of them in the same place?

Fighting demons in the fade, at least the lesser kind, as it turned out, wasn't much different than fighting those in the land of the waking. A sword did as much damage here as it did there, which was oddly reassuring. There was very little that made sense to the Templar, and he wondered if he should have done more study on the Fade itself.

Waking the others turned out to be not quite as difficult as it would have seemed and Merida had collected herself quite the interesting group of individuals. He was happy to see Wynne with her, aware that this was one mage that could not have been forced into becoming an abomination.

Even the dog had been sucked into the Fade with them. Merida found it funny in a gallows humor kind of way.  The humor was more genuine when she watched him leap upon Cullen like something out of a tawdry novel.

Soon only Alistair was left and his dream - at home with his sister and her children in a loving and affectionate family - spoke to a loneliness that struck a chord in Merida. She almost felt bad about drawing him out of it.

There wasn't much time to dwell on it, for as soon as he woke, she felt all of them fading, disappearing from her side. It frightened her deeply, but when she raced back to Niall's portion of the Fade there was no one else there. No matter how many questions she asked of the mage who was so sure he was going to die, there were no answers. She could do nothing more than move on - to invade the sloth demon's own island and fight him there - alone if she must.

Thankfully, her companions reappeared as she confronted the sloth demon in his den. This was the seat of his power; destroying him here would not be easy.

But with her sword in hand, Cullen at her right hand and Alistair at her left - Fury at her heels while Tae, Wynne and Leliana brought their strength to bear from a distance - Merida couldn't help the feeling (for the first time really that she could remember) that somehow in spite of their situation, all was right with the world.

Perhaps she really was an idiot.

The final battle was fierce. For a demon of Sloth, it did pack quite a punch. Cullen was grateful for the warriors at his side and the two mages and the archer at his back.  With swift movements, the Templar took out all of the pent up rage that had built up on the demon, seemingly immune to pain or injury.

Merida had known that with Cullen and Taevan by her side that not even the Blight could have proved too much a challenge for them.  One of the more interesting side-effects of the magic that now enhanced her blade, Merida had discovered, was that if she narrowed down her focus to executing the killing blow, that the strike would unleash lightning and destroy utterly the thing which had stood in her path.

Sometimes it got a little overeager and destroyed more than that, but she and it were still new to each other.  It was a process.

Cullen watched with something like pride as Merida struck the final blow, feeling suddenly very heavy and tired again. Was that normal? Wasn't one supposed to wake from dreams feeling rested and relaxed, even in dreams where you were fighting or running or -

"Merida?" He called as the darkness closed around him. " _Merida!_ "

The exhilaration of a well-won fight, however, disappeared like being doused with icy water when Merida heard the shout of her name.  It wasn't just Cullen; they all found themselves pulled away from the Fade now that the magic holding them all there was gone. 

During that moment of darkness, Merida heard a very familiar voice whisper profound thanks.  She reached for it - trying desperately to bring it back with her - but the energy slipped through her fingers like a wisp.  When she awoke, it was to the cold, empty eyes of Niall's body staring at her sightless.  Pushing herself to her knees, Merida reached out and closed them gently, taking the Litany from his hands and bowing her head for a moment's soft prayer.

He had been her friend and she hadn't been able to save him.  It _hurt_.  It hurt more than she had anticipated.

The jangle of metal boots on stone stairs shook her out of her guilty thoughts.  Captain Raleigh's men - it had to be!  They could secure this level and stand watch with Cullen while she -

_Cullen!_

Scrambling to her feet, Merida rushed for the glowing barrier that separated his slumped frame from the rest of the room.  She pulled her blade from her back and made to break the cage with steel and lightning, but Morrigan's shout turned her blow away at the last second.

"What?" she snarled, whirling on the dark-haired woman with an inhuman rage.  If she had lost Cullen the same way she had lost Niall...

Maker save the Fade, because she would rip it to shreds.

"You cannot undo energy with energy!  Do you wish to destroy this entire tower?  I assure you, that is what you were doing.  T'was lightning that was harnessed to forge this cage and t'is lightning harnessed within your sword.  The blast would have dried up the _lake_."

Lake Calenhad was... frankly, enormous.  The idea of the kind of blast it would take to do that made Merida go pale beneath her freckles.

"I can't just leave him in there, either," she argued.  Not that she was planning on taking out half of Ferelden any time soon, but she had to make it plain that doing nothing was not an option either.  "The mages they... they set demons on him, Morrigan.  Inside the Fade, the damage was easily mended, but..."

But this realm was not so shaped by desire and will as was the realm of dreams.

"Hush, child."  The voice was not Morrigan, but Wynne, hauling herself up with the aid of a young Templar to stand and steady herself before crossing the room.  "No one is suggesting we abandon Cullen."  There was worry in her face, but her eyes were kind.  "These wards are tied to Uldred.  I can smell his blood in their making.  Once he is defeated, they will fall."

Torn, Merida looked between the wards and the door to the Harrowing Chamber - the only place left for their erstwhile invaders to hide.

"Wynne, stay with him."  The older woman looked ready to protest, but Merida didn't give her the chance.  "I need him to live.  Do you understand?  I _need_ you to keep him alive.  I don't know anyone else with the skill.  Please."

Wynne did not at all look like she liked it, but she agreed.

"Captain."  Merida addressed Raleigh next, matted and bloodstained and tired and sore and more furious than she could ever remember being in her entire life.  "Anyone with even a minor injury should stay here and watch over Wynne while she works.  The rest of us are going to make that filthy bastard pay for what he has done."

Wynne and Leliana exchanged looks of displeasure and deep concern, but there were at least a few among the Templars who had no shame in echoing that sentiment.

Raleigh was a little more hesitant than his men, looking at Merida seriously. "Takin' any Templar with you inta that Chamber'll mean that none of the mages inside will be spared. Not e'en the First Enchanter. We don't know if they're possessed already, and we can't risk another blood mage uprising in this tower." The statement was clear, and he was willing to hold the remainder of his men back, if it was Merida's wish. He'd bowed to her role as Commander in this instance, when Greagoir had not stepped up as he should have.

There were a few dissenting voices, one of the too young and too eager, stepping forward in challenge of the Captains unsaid offer. "She's not even a Templar, Captain. I understand letting her go first and clear out the demons, but now we should take over. This is what we were trained to do!."

"Stand down, Andrew." Raleigh barked. "I'm still yer Captain. You'll follow m' orders or I'll walk you down t' the dungeons m'self."

Merida paused, staring long and hard at the Knight Captain as the wheels in her mind struggled to turn against the rage. She didn't understand what difference it made. If they couldn't allow the risk of another blood mage uprising. What did it matter if they went with her now and killed them or she went in alone and killed them or she went in alone and killed some and spared others only to have the Templar's kill them later?

What was the -

"I'm a Grey Warden, pup. As is Alistair." That's when she understood. "I've yet to see a demon in this Tower or that wretched stretch of Fade who's half as frightening as the Archdemon."

She offered Raleigh a nod. "We will go in alone, then. Secure the rest of the Tower. Help who you can. Whatever the outcome in there, I take full responsibility for it. "

Because right now she wanted nothing more than to butcher mercilessly the people who had so destroyed the place she could not help thinking of as a home - the monsters who had so tormented the man she loved - but she was not so far gone as to put that blood on anyone's hands but her own.

Raleigh nodded, glad she understood the position he was in, leaving a few of his most level headed Templars with Wynne to keep her safe and to guard Cullen, before marching back out with the others to do a more thorough sweep as they made their way down. "Cousland? Do wha' ya need t' do in there. Give 'em hell."

The sound of the heavy door shutting echoed in the otherwise quiet room. It was then, with all the talking and arguing having ceased that the small whimpers and moans could be heard from behind the energy barrier, the lone captive still unconscious but obviously in pain.

"Ma'am, we've got this covered, and I'm sure we'll all feel better the sooner you get in there and take care of the trouble." The lone female Templar in the group put her fist to her chest and bowed just a little. "We'll keep Enchanter Wynne and Cullen safe as we can out here."

"Captain," Merida corrected her with a strained edge to her voice. "Knight-Captain Cullen. He did nothing to lose his rank." Not that she was a bastion of formality but it rankled her to hear Wynne given her title and Cullen stripped of his in the same breath.  The salute - the respect - offered to her was... unexpected. It stuck out. Merida nodded sharply once and cracked her neck to both sides, then led her people into the Harrowing Chamber.

The battle was fierce and bloody, but not so long as Merida had expected given how much trouble this Uldred seemed to have caused everyone else. She had no focus except for death and vengeance. It was surprisingly Alistair who stood behind her and steadied her hips with one hand while he took the Litany of Adralla from her belt pouch with the other.

It was the former Templar who took the old magic and stood between the remaining mages and the demons who would seek their destruction. The small part of Merida's mind not drowning in blood and rage was... frankly a little bit in awe of him. That... _that_ was what all Templars should be.

In the end, Uldred fell to Merida's great blade and Leliana's poison arrow. Alistair had managed to save only Irving and two others, but he had tried.

Even so, Merida's rage was not yet sated. She wanted answers.

"How?" she demanded of the First Enchanter as she stalked across the room with her sword raised in an implicit threat. "Tell me how you let this happen, Irving, or I swear I'll - "

"Merida." Alistair's voice was gentle, but the hand on her shoulder was firm. She turned to look at him with a snarl on her face, but he could see the pain that lay underneath the rage, that fueled it like kindling to a fire. "Uldred is gone. The barrier will have fallen."

"Go. I will get you your answers here, I swear it."

And she couldn't have said why - why in that moment the bitter fury in her bowed to this man, this almost-stranger - but she believed him. She trusted him. A single, sharp nod was all the answer she gave him before turning on her heel and striding swiftly toward Wynne and the barrier.

_Maker, let him live and I will make whatever sacrifice this Blight requires. Please. I beg of you, let him live._

Cullen woke the instant the barrier was gone, heaving great gasping breaths and looking far older than his years. The lyrium, for all it had not taken the predicted toll on his mind, had not been kind to his body. Wynne's healing could only go so far, and without his philter, lost somewhere in the wreckage of the tower, a few of the Templars were concerned that their Captain would not see the dawn of the next morning.

It was the Knight who had respected Merida so that came up with a plan, drops of a mages lyrium potion, administered slowly, could help until they either found his philter or he was granted a new one. If Greagoir would do such a thing. She was kneeling next to Wynne and assisting when Merida came back through the doors.

Merida crossed quickly to the place where Wynne and the lady Templar knelt, dropping to her knees next to him and taking one too-pale hand in her own.

"Status report," she demanded, voice rough and hoarse with fatigue and emotion. And though the order was obviously meant for Wynne or the other Templar, her eyes never left his face as her free hand reached up to brush his hair back off his brow.

"He needs his philter. I can stabilize him this way, but it buys us only a few hours at most. There are other injuries to be seen to in addition to malnourishment and withdrawal. If we can get him downstairs to the Infirmary, I can do more for him."

"I can get him down there. He should be away from this wretched mess, anyway. Come on, love. Let's get you cleaned up, hey?" Her voice was so much softer when she spoke directly to Cullen. Not quieter, not syrupy, just softer - more open - like there might actually be a heart inside that armor after all.

The remaining Knights and mages were assembled downstairs when Merida and the others retuned from the tower, Cullen slung over her shoulder and limp as a rag doll. Raleigh stood straight from where he'd leaned against the wall nearest the doors, keeping his eye on the Templars and mages still outside, not sure if the barrier should come down yet or remain intact. Greagoir looked less than pleased at the development, even as a cheer went up at seeing Cullen alive.  The Commander continued to pour over whatever papers he had in hand, refusing to even acknowledge the incredible accomplishment that had happened at the unattractively tall woman’s hand.

Merida didn't give a rat's ass what Greagoir did or did not acknowledge. He lost the right to have an opinion the moment he locked Cullen away to try and starve or withdrawal him into submission. Frankly, he also lost the right to breathe at that point, too, but she was not ready to deal with him yet.

Cullen came first. Always.

Rumors had always flown around a bit - the friendship between the tiny mage, the androgynous lady warrior and the Templar had been strange enough that people could not help but make it somehow salacious. But most people with any sense had dismissed them as just stories. They'd intensified lately, since her last visit and Cullen's violent reaction to the man who spoke so ill of her, but there could be no doubt now, for anyone who saw her carry him to the infirmary cots and settle him as gently as though he were made of glass.

Merida Cousland was entirely in love with their injured Knight Captain, but strangely enough, fewer people seemed upset about the revelation than she would have expected. Having just saved their asses probably didn't hurt.

"If you've done a thorough sweep, Captain Raleigh, the barrier can come down. The rest of the immediate reconstruction I leave in your capable hands."

Because Andrew had been right, she was no Templar. Her place now was at Cullen's side while Wynne worked, one of his hands held in both of hers.

Her companions, however, were more than happy to pitch in and lend extra hands however they were needed. Morrigan in particular stayed at Raleigh's arm to oversee the various operations - never hesitating to offer a sharp comment when she felt the mages were being mishandled and always quick with low and vicious sarcasm if anyone dared even to question some order of Raleigh's. She'd decided she liked him, whether he approved or not.

Greagoir would not even bother to talk to Merida, and thus it was left to the Captain still standing to bark out orders and get things taken care of, sending two Templars up to the barracks on the second floor to search for Cullen's philter and two down to the storage rooms in the basement to see if there were any spares.

Greagoir had opened his mouth to contradict those commands, but was wise enough to shut it when Raleigh leveled him with a look that could have probably killed a lesser man on the spot.

It was only when it was it became painfully clear that Merida would stay until Cullen was well that Greagoir stepped in. He did not want his best Captain lost to this fool’s errand that Merida had set herself on, and he knew Wynne was his best chance.  Wynne was many things, but she was a healer first. She put off Greagoir's demands until she was certain that Cullen would pull through. Only then - with a soft smile and a gentle hand on Merida’s bloody shoulder (because she wasn't going to be moved until he woke - not for anything) - did she stand and turn to the Commander.

Only Morrigan, still at Raleigh's shoulder, saw the conniving slant to Greagoir’s expression. And only to the Captain did she remark, "If that goes where I think he intends it to, your Commander will be signing his own death warrant." It was spoken so mildly, but it was still a warning. Even Flemeth would not injure the Warden to this degree, not with the Blight looming over them all.

"What is it, Greagoir?" Wynne sighed. "There are other healers seeing to the rest of the injuries."

"Warden Cousland." The Commander's tone was oddly formal, given the incredibly icy demeanor he'd had for her the entire time so far. "I have tolerated presence thus far out of respect for your... _feelings_ for the Knight-Captain, but it is time for you to leave."

He did not give Wynne or Merida a chance to jump in before moving forward with his case. "His wife has been notified of events and is on her way from Honnleath. It would be very inappropriate to have another woman at his side when she arrives. You understand of course."

"His... his _what?_ "

Merida lifted her head only slowly, fatigue and worry making her more sluggish than she should have been. Her initial reaction to Greagoir at the moment was disgust, but there was a flash of fear on her face before the anger took over once again.

"You're lying. He's my friend, Greagoir. He would have told me."

But she did not sound as sure of that as she could have done. It was enough to make Wynne step directly between her patient and his superior officer. "This is highly irregular, Commander. What's going on?" She had loved this man once - in her more private, honest moments, she loved the stubborn fool still - and knew better than most his obsession with duty above all things.

Morrigan turned just enough to give Raleigh an 'I told you so' look. She kept out of the immediate argument, but her grip changed on her staff.

Just in case.

"Not if his goal was not to break your heart, Cousland."

Raleigh was frowning. While it was not out of the question that the Captain would keep such a thing private – solitary as Cullen usually was – it seemed odd to him that the man would not have at least _mentioned_ it to anyone. Unless Greagoir had ordered him to keep the wife a secret until now. _That_ was not entirely out of the question either. He'd always been an odd bastard, Greagoir had.

"I would suggest, my magically inclined friend, that if you feel the need to attack the commander, that you use that very helpful shapeshifting ability. It'll scare most of the rabble."

Merida was... she was by nature an intensely private person. Having her foolishness, her shame so publicly displayed?  It only compounded the agony of her breaking, crumbling heart.  But she had been raised among the uppermost ranks of Fereldan nobility and politics. It was an upbringing that served her well. She did not shout. She did not cry. She did not make any kind of scene.

Of course he would have wanted someone - _anyone_ but her. It was a harsh lesson she had learned long ago. Her traitorous heart had shown her what she'd wanted to see... and then she'd foolishly bared it to him within the Fade. If... Maker, if Greagoir was right...

"Leliana, gather our people and move out."

"But- "

"I said, move out."

There was no warmth left in Merida's voice. There was no care or feeling in it. It was cold, it was clipped; it was the voice of command. Leliana sighed, but did as she had been told.

Morrigan watched as Merida drew down that armor around herself and was impressed as much as she was angry. Truly this was a woman much like herself. It sparked an unusual desire to... to fix it, to ease that suffering. To attack now would be satisfying, but not as effective as later. Instead, her answer was low and deadly - a predator's growl.

"I believe you to be an honorable man, Captain - much as I never thought to believe such about any Templar. Watch for this 'wife' of his."  Greagoir's fatal mistake here had been to do this so very... publicly. Too many witnesses if it was indeed a lie.  "If she comes, then it is fair enough. If she does not... then I believe your Commander will have invited a dragon into his den. I would appreciate a raven's notice either way."

Raleigh glanced down at Morrigan, nodding slowly. "Of course, my lady. As soon as I have an answer to this riddle one way or another, you will know."  His jaw worked slowly as he looked over Merida. "Watch over your Warden, heartbreak can make even the strongest of us do incredibly stupid things." There was a distance in his eyes, seeing a more familiar face transposed over Merida's.

Morrigan heaved a heavy sigh, turning away from the sight of her... friend as the warrior pressed her palm to Cullen's sleeping brow. "She doesn't need any more help with reckless anything, but I... understand. I only wish - " But even an earnest desire to spare her this pain was as useless as spitting in the wind and Morrigan knew that better than most. "It was... a pleasure meeting you, Captain. I hope our next encounter has more blood and fewer idiots."

Raleigh laughed just a little as Leliana gathered the group, bowing just a little as steps back to give her more room. "I believe the pleasure was mostly mine, Lady Morrigan. I can only hope the same. Be safe on your journey."

Wynne, meanwhile, had had quite enough. Anyone with eyes could see how much the boy adored Merida.

"Greagoir, a word. In private if you please."  And she marched out of the infirmary into the Commander's office room down the hall without so much as a by-your-leave.  "What in the Maker's name do you think you're doing, fool man?"

"Take care how you speak to me, Wynne." Greagoir cautioned her once the door was shut. "I need my Captain here, not gallivanting off at his heart’s whim. He has a duty that he swore himself to and has been training for since he was a boy. I'll not have him running off with the likes of _her_." He hissed and stood tall, hands behind his back.

"His duty is to protect the world from dangers beyond the Fade. Tell me how helping to stop the Blight does not fulfill that oath." Wynne's voice was quiet, but it was earnest. Whether or not she agreed with him, she did care for him and believed still that she could reach him with reason. "He's a good lad, Greagoir and you are too harsh on Merida Cousland. Even if you cannot accept that she has a good heart and a difficult mission, accept that Arl Howe killed her entire family. You are dealing with the Teyrna of Highever. The power she will wield with the death of the King will be phenomenal. Think about what you're doing, I beg you."

"Wardens give up any claim they have to the right of their birth, Wynne. There is no Teyrn or Teyrna of Highever anymore. Merida Cousland is a Warden and nothing more. Cullen needs to remain here to rebuild the tower and see to the mages there in. We've lost enough Templars already, and cannot afford to lose any more.  _You_ will keep your mouth shut on the matter if you _ever_ want to see your son. I… know where he is - and you will be more than welcome to that information _if_ you stop meddling."

Wynne did not seem convinced, but his final threat struck her deeply and there was a new brightness to her eyes as she recoiled from him.  " _Our_ son, Greagoir. Ours. Or have you finally forgotten loving me at all?"

The old commander softened just a little, right around the edges, but enough that Wynne would see it.  "Our son, yes. I have kept track of Rhys over the years. If you would like to see him, write to him... I can arrange it, but I _must_ have your silence on this matter."

That softening was what undid her. Too much of her life had been spent with her heart conquered by this man for her to really resist him now. She held his gaze for a long moment and then caved with a heavy sigh.

"Very well, Greagoir. I will trust you. I only hope you know what you're doing."  Through agreeing, everything about her slumped and weakened, leaving her feeling old and very, very tired.  "I will... go with the Warden in his place and fulfill the treaty requirement."

"I was going to send one of the Knights, Samuel perhaps..." Wynne did make more sense, the thing the party lacked and was most unlikely to find in any other place would he a healer and there wasn't anyone more trained in that skill in all of Fereldan. "But perhaps you are the wisest choice. They would seem to be our only hope at stopping the Blight."

"Indeed.  If I am to be party to this loss, I should be the one to fill it. I will... let you make my excess to Irving."  And with one final sigh, Wynne turned and left.

\-------------

Merida had them all packed and gone within half an hour's span. Alistair pulled her up behind him on his mount and they rode into the forest until they met Sten and Bann Loren's men.

"The Circle of Magi has been attacked," Merida explained calmly to their captain, seemingly unaffected. "Take your men and report to Captain Raleigh. He will be able to best direct you in the protection and reconstruction of the Tower."

Sten, seated astride a great chestnut charger from the company he'd fetched, rode forward and handed Merida the reins for her own mount while the rest of the men rode by.

She kept them riding through the rest of the night and on through the day, finally stopping mid-afternoon to let them make camp. Most everyone was exhausted by then and crawled gratefully to their bedrolls, but Alistair was still awake enough to see Merida start to ride on. He mounted up and followed her at a discreet distance; they rode until night found them both in a barren and rocky valley between two steep hills stripped decades ago of soil and vegetation.

It was there that he saw her hitch her mare to a fossilized tree trunk and take her sword further in. Fearing the worst, he crept forward only to see her swing the blade against a great stone, the strike coinciding with a bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky above that shattered the rock like a violent explosion. Startled, Alistair sat back and watched.

Again and again, she struck. The lightning became regular and each bolt was followed by an enormous roll of thunder until there was a violent storm. It almost covered the way she screamed with every blow. The rain that finally began to fall washed away the blood and gore from her armor, the tears from her face until finally she simply ran out of energy and collapsed to her knees in the rocky mud, shoulders shaking with now-silent sobs.

Before he even knew just what in the Void he thought he was doing, Alistair was closing the space between them, reaching for the broken woman and pulling her in to hold her close against his chest. She didn't fight him and he didn't say anything, they just sat like that until the storm ran dry and her shaking subsided.

They never talked about it after that.  She never offered and he never asked, but from that point on, he was never long away from her side; the two Wardens were joined entirely at the hip.  No one else in the party was cruel enough to say anything either, but as they approached Redcliff, there were more than a few worried glances – at them both.


End file.
